


Learn to Love What Burns

by ladyannabethstark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Sexual Content Only, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Physical Abuse, R plus L equals J, Rhaegar Wins AU, Robert's Rebellion happened later, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyannabethstark/pseuds/ladyannabethstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Robert's Rebellion ends with Rhaegar taking the throne, Sansa is sent as a ward to Casterly Rock. When ten years passes, she has very few friends and longs to be home again. When she's invited to King's Landing by a personal message from the king's daughter, she gets her first chance to leave her prison. After the journey to the city, Sansa is immediately greeted with the royal children and finds that they are much kinder than she expected. The youngest prince catches her eye and she his. As Sansa and Jon grow closer, they are forced to deal with abusive heirs, plots to overthrow the king, and a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1\. This is my first Jon x Sansa story. I am absolutely in love with the pairing and I cannot wait to write about them. Please be easy on me.
> 
> 2\. I am terrible at writing all of the Lannisters so I apologize in advance for any characterization faults.
> 
> 3\. Jon will show up either in the next chapter or the chapter after that, I'm not entirely sure.
> 
> 4\. This first chapter was very awkward and difficult to write. I know exactly where I want to go with the story but apparently getting it started isn't easy. I promise the next will be better.

Sansa sat up straight in her bed, gasping for air and huddling amongst the soft blankets as the remnants of the dream clung to her mind. It was the same every night, she was a direwolf, running through a field with a larger white wolf beside her. Lions were chasing them and dragons were flying above them but they paid the other animals no heed. Just beyond a field of roses with sharp thorns, their pack awaited them. She always woke just before they reached the other direwolves but this dream was different. Her entire body was drenched with sweat as she banished thoughts of the dream. Her handmaidens were used to this by now, all sinking into curtsies as they looked at her.

“Lady Sansa.” They murmured respectfully before going back to their jobs.

She didn’t reply, pushing the bedding aside. She climbed out on shaking legs, walking to the window nearest her bed. The sun was shining brightly as it almost always did at Casterly Rock. Yet it was not the yellow sun or the blue water that she wished to see. Her heart longed for an entirely different landscape that she only saw in her dreams. She wished for grey skies and snow-covered grounds.

“My lady, we’ve drawn a bath for you. Lord Tywin wishes for you to join him to break your fast.”

Sansa took a deep breath, turning away from the window. She paid her ladies no mind, pulling her shift off and letting it pool on the ground as she approached the steaming bath. Just before she climbed in, she divested herself of her smallclothes.

“How did you sleep, my lady?” another woman questioned, walking up with the lavender soap that she loved.

“Quite well.” Sansa lied, laying her head against the bronze lip of the large bath.

She scrubbed her body vigorously as she always did, always feeling wrong in this place. Her ladies watched on as she ducked her head beneath the water and let her hair be rinsed out. When she surfaced, Sansa took a deep breath and reached out for a cloth to dry herself. As soon as she climbed out and stood behind the screen, her ladies helped her to dress in a light pink dress with golden embroidery on the bodice. Her hair was brushed out and braided back into a southron style that felt unnatural. After dabbing lavender oil on her wrists, behind her ears, and on her neck, she stood and turned, ready to face the day.

As soon as she arrived at the Lord of Casterly Rock’s solar, the guard opened it to allow her in. Her ladies remained behind, knowing that the man would not want them there. Sansa steeled herself as she walked inside, curtsying when she saw the man seated at the table amongst a variety of foods.

“Sit, Lady Sansa.” Tywin invited her.

She knew it was nothing more or less than a command and obeyed, sitting to his left.

“You are welcome to eat whatever you find edible.” He said, gesturing his hand with a sweep over the table.

“Thank you, Lord Tywin.” Sansa said in a hushed voice, reaching out to put several different foods on her plate.

She nibbled on a piece of fruit as she watched him. He was reading over a letter, his eyes darted across the page. After several minutes, Tywin sighed and pushed it away, sitting back. His eyes met hers and she immediately looked down.

“You know why you came to be my ward?” he asked.

Sansa looked back up at him with surprise reflecting in her eyes. No one ever spoke of the reason she was at Casterly Rock instead of with her own family except for Jaime, Tywin’s son. The lord certainly never mentioned it to her.

“To ensure peace throughout the realm.” Sansa replied.

He stared at her for several moments in silence.

“That is the diplomatic answer, yes,” Tywin agreed, nodding as he turned to pay attention to his own food. “If your father ever joins a rebellion again, my duty to the crown is to put you to death.”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat as her face paled and suddenly she didn’t feel hungry at all.

“Yes, my lord.” She said quietly, looking down at her lap.

“Worry not, Sansa. Your father will do what is right, as always. His honor bounds him to it.” Tywin continued, unbothered by her reaction.

She didn’t like when he spoke like this about a man that she hardly knew. Sansa had vague memories of her father and mother but she was taken from Winterfell at such a young age that she did not know if they were truly memories or shadows that lived the recesses of her mind.

“Cersei’s husband has died, tragically, from hunting a boar whilst drunk.” Tywin said, handing the letter over to Sansa.

She read it over with shaking hands, the letter confirming what he said. She wondered if her father knew, Ned Stark having been good friends with Robert Baratheon when they were younger.

“What will happen to her and her children? Is Joffrey not too young to inherit the lordship of Storm’s End?” Sansa questioned.

“He is. Stannis will stand as Lord of Storm’s End until he reached maturity but Robert’s brother has no time to stand as guardian over his nephew. Cersei will bring him here to join Tommen and to have lessons with you.”

Sansa’s blood ran cold at the memories of Joffrey. He was unkind to her, a malicious glint in his eyes each time he saw her as if she was something for him to possess. Sansa hated his visits to Casterly Rock and now she was likely going to be forced to live with him. She forced a smile onto her face for Tywin’s benefit.

“I am happy to see both Lady Cersei and Joffrey.” she lied.

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I am certain you are.” Tywin said, turning his face away from her.

Sansa looked back down at her food, forcing herself to eat despite the sickened feeling in her stomach. The man seated with her noticed as nothing ever escaped his sharp gaze.

“You are dismissed, Lady Sansa.” Twyin said.

She looked up at him with surprise, pushing away from the table and curtsying.

“Thank you, Lord Tywin.” She whispered before turning to hurry out.

“Say hello to my son.” He said knowingly.

Sansa glanced back at him, nodding once before hurrying out. She stripped off her silk gown, instead putting on a dark blue riding dress that laced in the front.

“My lady?” one of her handmaidens said, holding out her leather riding gloves.

“Thank you, Joanna.” Sansa said, pulling them on after her boots.

“Ser Jaime is waiting in the stables.” Joanna informed her.

Sansa threw her a smile before leaving her chambers. She walked through the hallway slowly, letting her hair out of the complicated style to allow the red waves to flow around her shoulders to her waist. She pulled it over her shoulder, quickly braiding it as she walked across the great hall and outside into the warmth of the sun. Sansa looked up, putting a hand above her eyes to shield them from the brightness.

“My lady.” A man said, bowing to her.

She nodded at him, walking along towards the stables. Several men and women gave her the same treatment, showing her the deference that her birth demanded. As she caught sight of her grey mare waiting outside of the stables, Sansa hurried forward and grinned at the animal.

“Myriah.” She whispered, stroking her head.

The horse brushed her nose against Sansa’s forehead and stamped her feet impatiently.

“I know,” Sansa agreed, brushed her gloved hand over her mane. “I’ve been waiting for this as well.”

“She almost bit my hand off in her desperation to get out of the stables. That horse is a wild one.”

Sansa smiled, glancing at Jaime over her horse.

“Myriah is sweet. She just doesn’t like you.” she replied, lifting her skirts as a stable boy placed a block beside her horse.

“There’s no accounting for taste.” He shrugged, swinging up onto his stallion effortlessly.

Sansa rolled her eyes, climbing up onto her horse and settling in the saddle as she arranged her skirts.

“Ready?” Jaime said.

“Always,” She replied. “Your father says hello, by the way.”

Jaime snorted, shaking his head before urging his horse forward. They rode out together, keeping their horses at a trot as they left the castle and entered Lannisport. People all around recognized the golden-haired Lannister and the pale beauty at his side. They all bowed, acknowledging Jaime and Sansa.

“I will never understand.” Jaime decided as they passed by the market.

“What?” Sansa questioned, glancing over at him.

His emerald eyes flickered over her skin, looking as though they were trying to figure something out.

“You have been here for almost ten years and yet your skin is as pale as the day you came. You have spent countless days in the sunshine and you do not burn and your skin does not grow darker.”

Sansa felt a heavy weight on her heart at his words. A man’s voice went through her head.

_“You will always have the North within you, Sansa.”_

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sound of her father’s voice before she was ripped away from her memory once more.

“Lady Sansa?”

Her eyes opened and she looked over at Jaime. She realized that they’d reached the edge of Lannisport and were facing the open green fields as well as the bright blue water.

“Shall we?” he said.

Sansa looked at him, nodding once. Jaime grinned at her, kicking his stallion to send the horse darting forward. Sansa whispered in Myriah’s ear and she raced to catch up with him. They flew across the field, both delighting in the feeling of freedom that their rides provided. Sansa’s hands gripped the reigns as the wind whipped around her face. They slowed down once they reached the edge of the field where a group of trees stood. Jaime’s horse skipped to a stop and Myriah did the same. The knight leapt off his horse, striding over to her so that he could help her off of the horse. They allowed the horses to graze in the field as they sat beneath the shade of a tree. Sansa sighed, leaning back against the bark as she pulled her braid out and ran her fingers through the long strands.

“Your father told me about your sister’s husband.” she said after several minutes of listening to the light breeze.

Jaime looked at her.

“And how do you feel about it?” he questioned.

“I am not certain that it is my place to feel anything about it. I’ve only met Cersei a few times before and her children even less than that.” she replied, shrugging noncommittally.

He sighed heavily, looking out into the distance at Casterly Rock.

“I think that it’s about to be very crowded.” Jaime said.

Sansa gave him a strange look.

“Surely you are happy. I am certain that you’ve missed your sister as well as your nephew.” she said.

Jaime let out a humorless laugh, looking at her once more.

“The Lannisters are nothing like the honorable Starks. We hardly mourn over people’s absences from our lives, even if they are family.”

Sansa felt her heart clench at his words and she looked down at her hands.

“In three turns of the moon, it will have been ten years since I saw any of them. Arya was still in the nursery and Mother was close to giving birth to my brother. I’ve never even met Bran or Rickon and I barely remember Robb’s face.” she said in a quiet voice before looking up at him.

Sansa’s normally kind face adopted a glare.

“So do not speak to me of family.” She said in a hardened voice, pushing herself up to stand.

“Sansa…” Jaime sighed.

She didn’t listen, hurrying towards Myriah without a second thought. She heard him following her. Part of her wished that he was only remaining with her to protect her. The other part of her knew that it was his duty to his house to ensure that she didn’t flee. Sansa wished that she could but also knew that there was little chance of her making it to Winterfell alive or unharmed even if she managed to escape the soldiers that they would send after her. So she aimed her horse towards Casterly Rock and sent Myriah galloping back towards her prison.

\----------

Sansa sat in the gardens with a bundle of flowers in her hands. Tommen was darting all over the place, collecting the flowers to give to her. The youngest Lannister had been at Casterly Rock for the past two years, a ward of his grandfather’s since he was not heir to Storm’s End like Joffrey. He was a kind young boy who always looked at Sansa as if she made the sun rise every day.

“Tell me about the rebellion.” he said, perching himself on the bench beside her.

Sansa sighed, glancing down at him.

“I tell you about the rebellion at least once a week.” she reminded him.

Tommen gave her a pleading look and she knew that she would tell him the story of how she came to be at Casterly Rock.

“A long time ago, there was a tourney at the largest castle in all of Westeros. Nobles from across the seven kingdoms came to participate and to watch. Even King Aerys and his family traveled to Harrenhal to see the festivities. Prince Rhaegar, as he was named at the time, was a very sad man. He had a wife, Elia of Dorne, and two children, Rhaenys and Aegon. Yet, he was still sad and he did not know why. He participated in the jousting competition during the tourney and when he rode onto the field, he saw the most beautiful woman sitting in the stands.”

“Even more beautiful than Princess Elia?” Tommen asked.

“I don’t know. I think the princess was very beautiful as well.” Sansa said, not wanting to shame the queen even in their privacy lest the young boy repeat her words.

It would not be good for Lyanna Stark’s beauty to be proclaimed in Casterly Rock when the first wife of Rhaegar was his consort.

“When he won the tourney, Prince Rhaegar claimed this beautiful woman, Lyanna, as the queen of love and beauty with a crown of blue winter roses. From that day on, he could not stop dreaming of her. His thoughts were so taken with this young woman that he knew that he had to have her. He went to Winterfell, where the lady resided, and convinced her to come with him. Her brothers and father were not aware of her willingness to run away with the prince and thought her kidnapped. The elder brother, Brandon, and her father traveled to King’s Landing to retrieve her but the prince’s father, the Mad King, had them killed on charges of treason. That is when the true rebellion began.”

Sansa paused, taking a deep breath as she looked down at Tommen. She half-hoped that he would grow tired of the story so that she did not have to finish it. But the young boy looked as engrossed as ever and she knew that she would have to continue.

“Lyanna’s other brother, Eddard, decided to call upon the banners and to fight with Robert, Lyanna’s betrothed. They were not aware that Lyanna was married to Rhaegar as his second wife until they fought many battles to free her. As the war waged on, Rhaegar took his new wife to Dorne so that she could be safe in the Tower of Joy. He ignored calls from Robert to meet him in battle at the Trident, especially when Lyanna discovered that she was with child. As Robert marched on King’s Landing, Eddard traveled to Dorne to find his sister. When he did, he found that she was experiencing the pain of childbirth with her husband by her side. As soon as she delivered of a healthy babe, a son, the maester knew that she was dying. With her last breath, Lyanna pleaded with her husband and her brother to make peace, not wanting her son to grow up in a world where her families were fighting. She made them promise.”

“And then? What happened in King’s Landing?” Tommen questioned, eager to hear of the final battle.

Sansa swallowed hard before continuing.

“As Eddard and Rhaegar rode towards the capital, Robert and his army waited for the Mad King to open his gates to them. That was when the Lannister army came to defend the Targaryens, overtaking Robert’s army until Rhaegar arrived and called a stop to the fighting, saying that all was over. Eddard convinced Robert to cease his battles because Lyanna was dead and her son remained behind as a prince of Westeros. The Lannisters allied behind the prince as the city was opened to them.”

“And the Mad King? What happened to Aerys?” the young boy questioned, excitement flashing in his eyes as it always did when she told him the story.

Sansa glanced up, looking at the keep that loomed above them.

“The Mad King was suffering from delusions. He thought that his own son brought Robert’s army to kill him so he commanded his kingsguard to light the wildfire that he’d placed all over the city. One of them, a young man who was only recently appointed as a member of the guard, knew that he could not allow this. The wildfire would burn and kill many innocent people. So, when the Mad King turned his back, his guard killed him, feeling that he was doing justice for his city and for all of Westeros. The king died laughing, still telling his men to burn them all. When Rhaegar entered the throne room, he saw his father’s body and knew that his time as king had come. Along with his queen, daughter, and two sons, he ushered Westeros into a time of peace that has lasted for many years.”

“And what of Eddard and Robert and the guard who killed the Mad King?” Tommen pushed.

Sansa clenched her hands into her skirts, fighting the urge to tell him that she wouldn’t speak of it.

“The king knew that his allies would not rest until the Houses that allied against his family were punished. So he did the mildest thing that he could think of. Ser Jaime of the kingsguard was released from his vows and banished from King’s Landing. The second child of both Eddard and Robert would be sent to Houses that were loyal to the crown throughout the rebellion to live as wards until they came of age and were married. The king took mercy on the men and allowed their heirs to remain with the family.”

Tommen looked up at her, a somber look in his eyes. He always grew sad at this part in the story.

“That is why you are here and my sister is in Highgarden.” He said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Sansa inhaled deeply, nodding in confirmation.

“I am very lucky to be treated so kindly here and I am sure that Myrcella is receiving the same treatment from the Tyrells.” Sansa assured him.

Tommen nodded, glancing around.

“Uncle Tyrion!” he suddenly shouted happily, forgetting all about the story and his sadness.

Sansa turned her head to see him darting to see the younger brother of Jaime and Cersei. The man held his arms open with a wide smile and embraced his nephew as best he could. She stood from the bench, curtsying to him as he came closer.

“Lord Tyrion.” She said respectfully.

“Lady Sansa.” He replied, kissing her hand softly.

“What news from court, Uncle?” Tommen asked excitedly, interrupting their greeting.

Tyrion looked over at him, a smile on his face once more.

“I have the greatest of news, nephew,” he said, sitting with him on the bench as Sansa hovered nearby, unsure of whether or not she was invited to remain with him. “The king is having a week of festivities for his nameday and the royal family has invited all of us.”

Tommen looked thrilled, grinning widely.

“Will there be a tourney like at Harrenhal?” he asked, barely able to keep himself still.

“I imagine there will be.” Tyrion nodded, aware of his nephew’s obsession with everything to do with the rebellion.

The young boy looked ready to explode with happiness.

“Is Sansa invited?” he asked, looking at her.

Tyrion glanced over his shoulder at her.

“The Lady Sansa has been invited by Princess Rhaenys personally.” He answered.

She fought to keep the shock from overtaking her face, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I have?” Sansa breathed, unsure of whether she heard him right.

“I was instructed to deliver the message.” Tyrion nodded.

She searched her mind for the correct response. Should she write to the princess thanking her for the invitation? Should she ask Tywin for permission to attend court despite the fact that he would likely be unable to turn down such a direct message from the king’s daughter? Would she be allowed to attend at all, being the daughter of Eddard Stark? All of the questions raced through her head.

“Perhaps one of the princes will crown Sansa as the queen of love and beauty just like Lyanna Stark.” Tommen said, looking at her.

She flushed, looking down at her feet.

“Her beauty rises above the title.” Tyrion agreed.

Sansa took a deep breath, steeling herself as she looked up at them.

“I shall excuse myself for now, Lord Tyrion, Tommen. I hope to see you on the morrow.” She said quickly, turning away.

She hurried through the halls of Casterly Rock, entering her room before shutting the door and sinking into a chair. For the first time in ten years, she was doing something she only dreamed of in leaving Casterly Rock. She’d barely been past Lannisport before and now she might be journeying all the way to King’s Landing. Part of her sincerely hoped that her family would be invited to attend the celebration but another part of her sincerely doubted that the Starks would be allowed within the city walls. Yet she would still hold onto hope that she would see her family soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa meets Cersei and Joffrey once more. As the news of her invitation to the king's nameday comes out to the others, she experiences cruel treatment at their hands. The Lannisters leave for King's Landing with Sansa and when she arrives in the capital, she is quite surprised at the warm welcome that she receives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments and the kudos.
> 
> There is not much Jon in this chapter but he is introduced. I was going to have more of him but the chapter was a bit long so I cut it down. Next chapter will have much more of him, I promise.

With only four moons separating Sansa from her first journey away from Casterly Rock, she was ushered into the courtyard along with Tyrion, Jaime, and Tommen to greet Cersei and Joffrey as they finally arrived from Storm’s End. When they rode in, her eyes immediately went to the young man and saw him staring back at her appreciatively. Sansa bowed her head demurely, not wanting to meet his gaze in return. He leapt off of his horse easily, striding towards her with a confident look on his face. A large man shadowed him and Sansa knew the shield to be Sandor Clegane, otherwise known as the Hound. She had seen him before on Joffrey’s visits to Casterly Rock. His face never failed to send shivers down her spine but she was more used to it and did not find trouble looking at him.

“My lady.” Joffrey said, looking down at her sky blue gown and back up at her eyes.

Sansa sank into a curtsy.

“My lord.” She murmured.

Once Cersei greeted her father, brother, and son, she swept past Tyrion to walk to Sansa.

“You have grown so much, little dove,” She said, her eyes flickering over Sansa’s body with an almost critical look. “It is a shame that such a beauty as yourself must be locked away here.”

“She won’t be for much longer.” Tyrion piped up.

Tywin shot his youngest son a stern, warning look as Cersei narrowed her eyes at her brother.

“What do you mean?” she demanded in a sharp voice.

“The lady has received a personal invitation from the princess to attend King Rhaegar’s nameday celebrations. I am certain that many men will have the chance to admire her beauty and, perhaps, she will be the recipient of many proposals of marriage. After all, she is of an age to wed.” he said, smirking as his sister’s face grew more and more annoyed.

Cersei looked at Tywin with a demanding glint in her eyes.

“You are allowing this?” she questioned.

“It is not my place to defy a royal order when such a command put Lady Sansa under my protection in the first place.” he replied, not nearly as bothered by this as his daughter.

Sansa was used to this treatment. Cersei never liked her very much and always ensured that she knew it on her few visits to Casterly Rock. The woman moved past her, walking as though she were a queen herself. Sansa looked after her, only noticing now that Cersei was wearing a gown of deep red with gold trimming rather than a mourning gown despite the fact that her husband only died recently.

“Perhaps we should push for a betrothal agreement before we leave for King’s Landing.”

Sansa’s surprised expression was drawn back to Joffrey as he spoke. A horrified feeling filled her as she realized that he was talking of a betrothal between the two of them.

“I would hate for the lady to be plagued with such offers from men and I would be willing to attach my own name to hers in an effort to prevent such a travesty from occurring.” The young man said.

There was a hint of something in his eyes that made Sansa want to move as far away from him as possible. Suddenly, she did not know him as the boy that she grew up seeing at Casterly Rock every few years. She saw him as a man who sought to take even more freedom away from her.

“It is not up to you to decide on what happens to Lady Sansa.” Tywin said, walking forward.

Joffrey looked like he might argue but Jaime held his arm out to escort her inside. She took it, allowing him to lead her away from the courtyard.

“Will your father arrange a marriage for me? Is that why he is so willing to take me to King’s Landing?” Sansa asked in a low voice.

“I do not know of my father’s motivations.” Jaime admitted, turning her away from Cersei’s glare.

Sansa sighed heavily, glancing over at him.

“I wish that you could come.” She admitted.

The man they called kingslayer looked back at her.

“As do I.” Jaime sighed.

\----------

It didn't take long for Joffrey to find Sansa alone. She was in the library studying a book of poems when the heavy wooden door shut with a loud thump. Her eyes lifted and she faltered at the sight of him standing there alone.

"My lord." she said, setting the book aside and standing up to curtsy.

Sansa prayed that he only came to find a book but judging by the look in his eyes, he was there for reasons other than reading.

"Have you been hiding, Lady Sansa? I've been here for a sennight and I've only seen you at dinner." he said.

"I apologize, my lord," Sansa said, her voice almost trembling. "I did not intend to give the impression that I am avoiding you."

Joffrey stalked forward, a smirk on his face.

"You spend quite a bit of time with my uncle. I'm not sure that it's entirely appropriate for a lady such as yourself to be alone with a man like him. After all, you will have to prove your honor to any future husband."

"Ser Jaime would do nothing to put my honor in danger, my lord. I assure you that our relationship is entirely platonic." Sansa said, desperate to slip past him and out the door.

He laughed once, a cruel noise that sent chills through her body.

"I should go, my lord. Lord Tywin wishes to know of my whereabouts during the day." Sansa said, looking for any excuse to leave his presence.

As she tried to walk past him, his arm shot out and gripped hers tightly. She winced at the pain as he drew her in close to him.

"You will leave when I allow it." Joffrey hissed, his hot breath washing over her face.

Sansa fought back her emotions, keeping her voice level.

"Yes, my lord." she whispered, only wishing to please him so that she could get away.

Joffrey turned, grasping her other arm and shoving her against the door. Sansa let out a shocked cry when her head collided with the hard wood.

"You will be my lady and you will do as I say. If I want you to stay, you will stay. I do not care what my grandfather tells you."

Sansa's tears welled over and slid down her cheeks.

"Do you understand?" Joffrey said in a low voice, his emerald eyes glinting dangerously.

She nodded quickly, her heart thundering in her chest. He smirked triumphantly as he leaned in and before she knew it, his lips were pressed to hers in a bruising kiss. Sansa whimpered into his mouth as he forced her lips apart with his tongue. Joffrey bit on her lower lip painfully before he pulled away. With one last glowering look, he shoved her aside and into a bookcase before leaving. Sansa sank to the ground, blood dripping down her chin from her lip. Her entire body shook with the force of her cries.

\----------

As she watched the bustle of the servants around the courtyard, Sansa pulled on her leather riding gloves. Her hair flowed around her shoulders freely and her riding dress was dark green with black trimming. She glanced around, watching as Tommen was led into a small wheelhouse for him since he was too young to ride on the horse for a long journey.

“Are you prepared for the journey, Lady Sansa?” Tyrion asked, approaching her.

“I am not afraid to admit that I am nervous, my lord.” Sansa said quietly, looking back at the keep with a hesitant look.

He looked up at her, an understanding look on his face.

“I do not blame you, my lady. If it should comfort you, Princess Rhaenys is a lovely young woman and I know that she is thrilled to meet you.” Tyrion said.

Sansa frowned with confusion. She still did not know why the princess invited her personally, though she did not know whether it would be impolite to ask. As if he sensed her questions, Tyrion looked at her knowingly.

“From what I have heard, Rhaegar’s children do not approve of his decision to separate you from your family to appease the people who assured his throne. Rhaenys is the most outspoken of the three and it is likely that she seeks to free you from this place.”

Sansa’s eyes widened in alarm, wondering if this was just another Lannister trying to pull her in yet another direction.

“I am no prisoner, Lord Tyrion,” She said, contrary to the thoughts that she found herself repeating every day. “I am loyal to your father and to your family. My beloved Joffrey is the only person that I shall concern myself with when it comes to opinions.”

He looked up at her with a slight smile.

“You may outlive us all, Lady Stark.” Tyrion said cryptically before turning to walk away.

Sansa watched as he was helped into the specially made saddle that allowed him to ride.

“You look as though you are in mourning, Lady Stark. Do you think you will miss me so much?”

She turned, watching as Jaime sauntered up to her. There was the same confidence in his gait as normal but she saw that his eyes did not match it.

“I only worry that you will suffer from boredom without my companionship.” she replied, knowing better than to point out his dark mood.

Jaime laughed, throwing his head back slightly as he did so. Sansa found herself smiling, turning her head as Myriah was led towards her.

“Allow me.” Jaime said, holding his hand out to her.

He helped her into the saddle and watched as Sansa arranged herself.

“Take care of yourself, Sansa,” he said seriously, looking up at her. “The court is full of liars and tricksters who would love nothing more than to see you fall.”

Sansa’s heart felt heavy as she listened to his words. She couldn’t help but think of his sister, who she could feel was glaring at her back.

“I will watch after myself if you will do the same, Ser Jaime,” She said softly, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “I expect you to greet me upon my return.”

She heard two horses approaching them and turned her head to see Tyrion on one side and Sandor on the other.

“Brother.” Tyrion said, nodding at Jaime.

“Brother.” he replied.

Sansa glanced over her shoulder at the Hound, wondering why he was beside her instead of with Joffrey.

“His lordship has decided that he does not wish to be sullied by my company on the ride.” He said gruffly.

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want your company either.” Tyrion chuckled.

Sandor glared at him, his hand twitching towards his sword.

“I don’t believe I offered it to you, Imp.” He growled.

Tyrion laughed more, looking amused at his taunting of the much larger man.

“This one doesn’t like me.” he informed Sansa, cocking his head towards Sandor.

“I can’t imagine why,” She said with a slight smile. “You are welcome to accompany me, Sandor. I fear that my journey will be rather quiet.”

“Am I not invited, Lady Sansa?” Tyrion questioned, a mock seriousness on his face.

She smiled wider, feeling her spirits lift for the first time in ages.

“Of course, my lord. But only if you two agree to behave.” Sansa said conditionally.

“That’s like telling a mountain to walk.” Jaime scoffed.

“I have faith.” She said simply.

When they heard more horses trotting across the yard, her smile faded. She turned her head to face Tywin, Cersei, and Joffrey, who were all similarly sour-faced.

“Let us ride.” Tywin said coldly, taking off through the gate without a look back.

Cersei and Joffrey followed along with the wheelhouse and Sansa kicked Myriah in motion to go between Tyrion and Sandor. She glanced back at Jaime, shooting him a sad smile before he disappeared from view. As they rode out of Lannisport on the Goldroad towards King’s Landing.

\----------

Sansa clutched at the reigns of her horse, relying on Myriah to keep her calm. The city stretched out in front of them as they approached, the glimmering surface of the Blackwater Bay barely visible over the tallest tower of the Red Keep. They traveled through Flea Bottom and she glanced around, meeting the eyes of the common people who seemed uninterested in the train of people entering the city. They must have been used to well-dressed nobles coming to see the royal family, especially since they were pouring in for the festivities surrounding King Rhaegar’s nameday. She suddenly missed Jaime terribly, wanting to turn to him and see his easy smile. Instead, she knew that Joffrey's cold eyes and cruel smile would be awaiting her if she turned her head.

"How do you find the city, Lady Sansa?" Cersei asked from behind her, clearly wanting to make a fool of her.

"I have not seen enough of it to judge, Lady Cersei." Sansa replied, her cheeks burning as she wished to be anywhere else.

Tommen piped up behind them, peeking out of his litter.

"I can't wait to see the dragon skulls." he said happily.

"Nor can I, dear nephew." Tyrion said from her other side.

Sansa glanced over at him and felt better at the warmth in his gaze. She should have known that without Jaime there, the younger Lannister brother would take up the job of ensuring that she was not miserable. Sansa wouldn't have been surprised if Jaime even took Tyrion aside and told him to keep Sansa happy as he had done for ten years at Casterly Rock.

"Do you think that the king and queen will meet us?" Tommen wondered.

"They'll be busy ruling Westeros. Why would they want to greet you?" Joffrey said rudely.

Sansa frowned over at him. His eyes met hers and he wordlessly dared her to speak against him. She sighed, turning to glance back at Tommen.

"Perhaps the princes and princess will meet us. I am certain they will be happy to see you." Sansa said with a soft smile.

Joffrey scoffed but Tommen beamed at her.

"How kind of you, Lady Sansa. Do you not think they'll be happy to see you, the girl with a traitor's family?" Cersei said derisively.

She flushed angrily, turning back and resisting the urge to push her horse far ahead of the Lannisters.

"Prince Jon's mother was Lady Sansa's aunt. I'm certain he will greet his cousin happily." Tyrion broke in.

"No one asked you, Imp." Joffrey snapped at his uncle.

"Hush." Tywin finally snapped as they approached the gate to the Red Keep.

They all grew silent, riding through the gate and into the courtyard of the castle. Sansa pulled Myriah to a stop, glancing around at the dyed bricks of the keep. Joffrey leapt off of his horse, sauntering off to greet the princes and princess, who were there just as she imagined they would be. Tyrion hesitated, looking up at her helplessly where he stood on the ground. Sansa fought back tears at their horrible treatment of her. She wished for nothing more than to be back at Casterly Rock with Jaime while the others came for King Rhaegar's nameday.

She heard a hush fall over the courtyard and turned to see a young man striding towards her with purpose. Her eyes widened and she stared at him with wonder, thinking that this must have been an even younger version of the father that she barely remembered. When he reached her side, he held up his hands with a hesitant look as if he was certain she would turn him away. Sansa shifted, situating both of her legs on one side of the saddle before reaching for him as well. His hands went to her torso to help her off. Sansa fought back a cry of pain, biting on her lip hard when he put pressure on her bruised ribs.

Once her feet hit the ground, he pulled his hands off of her and stepped back to a respectful distance. Sansa looked up into his eyes to see that he was staring at her with concern. He must have seen her grimace and heard her gasp when he touched her. Before he could point it out, Sansa sank into a curtsy. She knew exactly who he was though they never met before.

"My prince." she murmured, bowing her head to him as well before straightening up.

He held his hand out and she put hers in it carefully. Prince Jon bent over, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

"My lady." he said softly, looking at her as he stood up once again.

Sansa stared into his grey eyes for several moments before glancing around. Cersei and Joffrey were both glaring at her as if she committed some travesty against them. Tywin was watching with narrowed eyes and Tyrion looked relieved that someone came to help her where he couldn't.

"You must be Lady Sansa!" a delighted voice rang out.

She looked around to see a beautiful woman that was a few years older than her approaching her with a wide smile. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders in beautiful curls and her violet eyes were sparkling. Sansa felt horribly plain next to her in a dark grey riding gown and her mud-splattered leather boots. Rhaenys was wearing a light purple silk gown, the folds of her skirt flowing across the ground as if she floated on air. She embraced Sansa happily, kissing both of her cheeks.

"You are even more beautiful than I heard. It is a shame you were hidden away at Casterly Rock for so long." the princess said, looping their arms together.

Sansa flushed as she pulled her towards the group, feeling happy for the first time since they left on their journey.

"Your beauty far surpasses mine, Princess." she said humbly, glancing back at Prince Jon where he was following them.

"Oh please, call me Rhaenys. I have been looking forward to meeting you for so long, haven't I brothers?"

The second prince stepped forward, kissing Sansa's hand as well.

"She has hardly stopped speaking of it." Aegon said, looking up at her with eyes only a shade lighter than his sister's.

"You are all too kind." Sansa said, smiling at him as well.

Rhaenys reclaimed her, a brilliant smile on her face.

"And you have already met our quieter brother, Jon." she said.

Sansa turned to him, nodding.

"He has the look of the North." she said, the words slipping out of her mouth.

The Lannisters all inhaled sharply at the reminder of his Northern mother but Rhaenys laughed as Aegon grinned. Jon simply flushed, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at her through his lashes. Sansa's cheeks burned as well and she opened her mouth to apologize for the slip.

"Yet he has the disposition of our father," Rhaenys said, cutting her off before she could make amends.

She turned to the Lannisters, her arm still looped through Sansa's.

"The king and queen do apologize for their failure to greet you. They are very busy planning next week's festivities." she said.

"You are all invited to dine with us tonight." Aegon continued for his sister.

"We would be thrilled to join you." Cersei said, charm dripping from every syllable.

Rhaenys was already pulling her towards the Keep.

"Come, Lady Sansa. I shall show you to your chambers. They are rather close to mine, as it so happens." she said.

"My betrothed should remain close to me." Joffrey called out.

Sansa felt a chill run down her spine at his words. The princess stopped short, turning to look at him.

"Lady Sansa is betrothed to no one at the moment and even if she were, her honor would be better protected by being close to me. I am terribly protective." Rhaenys said, a hint of danger in her voice.

Sansa didn't dare to look back at Joffrey, knowing that his face would be full of fury.

"She is my father's ward." Cersei reminded the princess, obviously forcing her voice to be pleasant.

"And she is a guest of my family, the head of whom is the King of the Seven Kingdoms." Rhaenys countered, daring the other woman to argue with that.

Cersei grew quiet, as did the rest of them. With a triumphant nod and a smile, the princess turned to lead Sansa inside. Once they were through the doors, Rhaenys bent her head close to hers.

"I thought that, after ten years, you might want a few hours away from those insufferable Lannisters." she said in a low voice.

Sansa's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.

"I am very appreciative to the Lannisters for all that they have done. They are very wonderful people for allowing me to live with them so selflessly. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey and hope to marry him one day."

Rhaenys gave her a sad, sympathetic look but didn't push it.

"Do you look forward to the tourney?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, Princ... Rhaenys. I have not seen one in so long that I am determined to enjoy it." Sansa said, relieved to be talking about something different.

The older female grinned at her.

“It will be splendid. I have seen some of the plans. My father does not have the desire to plan such things so the responsibility often falls to my mother. She sometimes enlists my help, especially with an event as large as this one. There are representatives from houses both large and small attending.” Rhaenys chattered on as they reached a large wooden door.

Sansa turned to face her with a hesitant look, unsure of whether or not to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue.

“Are visitors from every house attending?” she asked.

The princess looked at her sadly once again, realizing exactly what she wanted to know.

“The Starks aren’t coming.” Rhaenys said softly, knowing that it would be better to reveal it to her quickly rather than draw it out.

Sansa nodded, knowing that she should have expected it.

“If you will pardon me, princess, I would like to clean up and rest for a while. I am tired from our journey and wish to collect myself before attending dinner.” she said, wanting more than anything to be alone.

“Of course. My chambers are just down the hall to the right. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.” Rhaenys said, turning to walk off.

“Thank you.” Sansa called after her.

The princess responded with a smile over her shoulder. Sansa watched her go before pushing the door open, walking in. Her eyes widened as she took in the room. Her bedchamber at Casterly Rock wasn’t small but this chamber would have fit three of the other room inside of it. Sansa walked to the window, looking out at the glittering view of the Blackwater. Another window gave her a glimpse at the Kingswood. Sansa turned, walking to the bed. She ran her hands over the posts on each of the corners, looking at the fine engravings on the wood. The blankets were soft and at a second glance, she realized that they were white and grey. Warmth filled her chest as she kicked off her boots and climbed up onto the bed, looking down at her House colors with misty eyes.

“My lady.” Joanna said as she entered.

Sansa turned to see her walking in with several servants behind her, all carrying her belongings. When Sansa saw several new trunks, her brow furrowed and she slid off of the bed.

“What are these?” she asked as the men left.

“Lady Cersei sent new gowns for you.” Joanna answered as she opened one of the trunks.

Sansa pulled out a silk ivory gown, her eyes widening at the soft material of the dress.

“It’s beautiful.” she breathed, tracing the golden embroidery on the collar.

“There are jewels to match, my lady.” Joanna said, opening another trunk.

Sansa’s mouth fell open when she saw the gold earrings with ivory stones set in them. There was a matching bracelet as well.

“Why would she do all of this? She hates me.” Sansa said quietly, shaking her head in confusion.

“Perhaps she wishes to reconcile with you after all of the rumors of your impending betrothal to her son.” Joanna suggested.

Sansa glanced up at her, a frown pursing her lips.

“I’m not betrothed to Joffrey and nor will I ever be.” she said, straightening up.

“Will you wear one of your new gowns?” Joanna asked, not at all put off by her vehement denial.

Sansa glanced down at the trunks once more, debating whether or not to accept Cersei’s gifts.

“The dark blue one.” She sighed, seeing the material at the bottom of the trunk.

Joanna leaned over, pulling out a dark blue gown with silver embroidery on the bodice and the hem.

“A beautiful choice, my lady,” She complimented. “I am certain there will be jewelry to match.”

“No jewelry.” Sansa refused, reaching up to touch the chain that she always wore around her neck.

The pendent on the end disappeared into the gown because of the length of the chain, something that was done on purpose. Sansa knew that showing off the silver direwolf would be pushing the boundaries and she did not want it taken from her.

“My lady, for a dinner with the royal family…”

“I have made my decision.” Sansa cut her off, turning around to allow her lady to unlace her riding dress so that she could bathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa attends dinner with the Lannisters and the royal family. She is given a tour of the castle and Cersei gives her an interesting offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments. You are all absolutely amazing.
> 
> I was completely remiss in mention this in the earlier chapters and now I recognize my mistake. When it comes to age, Sansa is sixteen and Jon is seventeen. She was born after the rebellion ended but in my mind, it took several years for Westeros to settle and for the word to get out that she was to be a ward of the Lannisters. They did not take her until she was six years old.
> 
> You will get quite a bit of Sansa and Jon in this chapter just for being so fantastic. I wasn't going to have this much interaction with them until later but your wonderful reviews convinced me.

When a sharp knock rapped against her door, she was certain that it would be Tywin or Cersei coming to tell her that she was forbidden from coming to the dinner or even Joffrey coming to threaten her more or possibly leave more marks on her pale skin. Sansa opened the door hesitantly, relieved to see Princess Rhaenys standing there. She looked gorgeous, a pale pink dress with pearls stitched into the bodice fitting on her slim body perfectly. Her hair was pulled up, a string of pearls in it as well to complete the look. Sansa was happy to find that her dress fit well and she pulled half of her hair up, braiding it in a crown around her head.

“May I escort you, Sansa?” the princess asked, grinning at her.

“Of course, Rhaenys.” Sansa replied, forcing herself to remember to use her name.

As soon as she stepped out into the hall, Rhaenys linked their arms once more and they walked down the corridor side-by-side.

“That is a wonderful gown. It brings out your eyes so beautifully.” 

Sansa flushed at her compliment, smiling over at her.

“Not nearly so beautiful as yours, though I do feel much better.” She admitted.

“I can imagine. Long journeys are difficult.” Rhaenys agreed as they walked down the steps towards the Queen’s Ballroom.

Sansa felt hesitant, knowing that Maegor’s Holdfast was the location of the royal apartments yet they placed her within the only empty chambers.

“Are you certain that my presence here is allowed? I am not worthy to reside in the same keep as the royal family.”

The princess waved her off carelessly, nodding at a guard as he opened the door for her.

“You are worthy because I decided it, Lady Sansa. I wish to be friends with you and I doubt that the Lannisters would allow such a thing if they had you shut up in the Maidenvault all of the time.” Rhaenys said as they stepped out into a large room.

Sansa’s looked around, her breath taken away by the beauty of the ballroom. She ran her hand over a pillar with golden inscriptions in High Valryian.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rhaenys said, watching her.

“It is.” Sansa breathed, glancing around to the table that awaited them.

When she saw the four people standing in wait for their guests, her heart dropped and her face grew solemn. Sansa suddenly realized that she was not prepared to meet the king and queen, yet they waited for her.

“Sansa?” Rhaenys said.

She felt frozen, unsure of whether or not she could even move towards the royal family. King Rhaegar and Queen Elia were watching her. Aegon stood close to them, his head turned to speak to his brother. Jon stood several steps away from them, looking down as he fidgeted with his dark grey jerkin. Sansa’s eyes drifted over them before going back to the queen. She couldn’t help but wonder what Elia of Dorne was thinking as she looked upon yet another Stark girl. Was she reminded of Lyanna or was Sansa’s Tully look enough to keep her from thinking of her husband’s deceased second wife and the mother of his son?

Sansa could see where Princess Rhaenys’ features came from. She had her father’s high cheekbones and his eyes yet her mother’s hair and olive skin. Her looks were completely unlike Aegon’s except for their eyes. He had the pale skin and hair of a Targaryen. Next to him, his brother looked as different as day is to night. His brown hair was so dark that it almost looked black and whereas Aegon’s hair was straight, Jon’s curled to the ends.

“Father, it is my pleasure to present Lady Sansa Stark to you.” Rhaenys said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Come forward, Lady Stark.” Rhaegar said, his voice low and commanding.

She shivered, stepping forward as she knew that failing to respond would be rude.

“Your Grace.” Sansa said, her voice quiet as she sank into a curtsy.

Her eyes lifted and met with the queen’s, who was staring at her with an almost curious look.

“My queen.” she murmured, bowing her head once again.

“Rise.” Rhaegar said.

She did so, swallowing hard as Rhaenys encouraged her to walk closer.

“You are quite a beauty, Lady Sansa. If I didn’t know better, I would think you a southron woman rather than a Stark.” Elia said in a smooth voice.

She cursed at the flush that filled her cheeks.

“Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind. I am told that I have my mother’s looks.” Sansa said.

The fact that she had no basis on which to judge herself went unspoken but everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. Sansa did not have enough memories of Catelyn Stark to know whether or not she looked like her.

“I am shamed to admit that I have never met your lady mother, though her brother will attend the festivities. Perhaps Edmure Tully will have a final judgment for us.” Elia said.

Sansa’s eyes widened at the news. She would see a member of her family for the first time in ten years. Even though he was not a Stark, her uncle would be a welcome sight. When the queen gave Sansa an understanding smile, warmth filled her and she relaxed immediately.

“Where are our aunt and uncle, Father?” Rhaenys asked.

“Coming along, I’m certain.” Rhaegar said quietly.

Sansa turned her head, studying the king. He was somber, that much was clear. There were lines around his eyes but not his mouth and she wondered if he smiled much. When her eyes flickered to Prince Jon, she got the sense that Rhaenys was truthful with her words when she said that father and son were very similar. Jon’s eyes lifted from the ground and met hers. Where she normally would have looked away immediately, she found herself staring into his dark grey eyes. He looked so like Eddard Stark, like home, that she longed to embrace him though she barely knew him. Her thoughts were cut off when they heard a door opening behind them. Sansa turned to see two equally beautiful people entering, a man and a woman. When she saw their silver hair and violet eyes, she knew exactly who they were.

“Is this the Lady Stark that my niece has been thrilled to see?” Daenerys said, walking forward gracefully as she stared at Sansa.

“My prince, my princess.” Sansa said, sinking into a curtsy automatically.

As she stood, Viserys looked her up and down with a critical look as Daenerys gave her a warm smile. Sansa felt herself wilting once again before Rhaenys, who seemed to be her anchor, stepped up next to her.

“She is lovely.” she said happily.

“What do you think of King’s Landing, Lady Sansa?” Viserys said in a demeaning voice that reminded her of Cersei when she spoke to her.

She hesitated, glancing around at the others who were waiting on her answer.

“It is beautiful, Your Grace. I have truly never seen a city with so many colors. The Red Keep is unmatched in splendor.” Sansa said, hoping that she spoke the right words.

“Even compared to Casterly Rock?” Aegon asked curiously.

Sansa didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Casterly Rock is beautiful but it lacks the importance of King’s Landing. Perhaps it is the knowledge that within the walls of the Red Keep, there are dragon skulls.” She said, using as much charm as she could manage.

It was intimidating, being surrounded by the royal family and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being judged by each and every one of them.

“Have you seen the Great Hall yet, Lady Sansa?” Daenerys questioned.

“I have not had the pleasure, Princess Daenerys.” She answered.

“I must take you tomorrow to tour the castle.” Rhaenys decided.

Sansa smiled at her, relieved to feel that she at least one of the Targaryens who was kind to her.

“You will not,” Queen Elia broke in, stepping towards her daughter. “Three more Houses are arriving tomorrow and you’ve demanded to greet each and every one.”

The princess’ face fell and she sighed, looking at Sansa sadly.

“I am sorry, Sansa. It seems I have other responsibilities.” She said, glancing around at her brothers pleadingly.

“Jon and I planned to ride out on a hunt with Lord Tywin and his grandson.” Aegon said, refusing his sister.

Sansa wanted to ensure them that it was not an issue and that she would explore on her own when a soft voice spoke up.

“I will remain behind and take her.” Jon said.

She looked at him with surprise as Rhaenys smiled triumphantly.

“Do not bother yourself, my prince. I would hate to take you away from the enjoyment of a hunt simply to be burdened with leading me around the Keep.” Sansa said.

“I do not consider it a burden, my lady.” He said honestly.

She felt heat rising in her cheeks.

“It is settled!” Rhaenys said happily.

“What say you, Lady Sansa? I do believe you should have a choice.” Rhaegar broke in.

She hesitated, glancing around at the expectant looks. When her eyes met Jon’s, he simply looked curious to hear her answer.

“Nothing would please me more.” Sansa said, smiling sweetly.

Everyone in the room relaxed as the situation was decided. Then the door opened and the Lannisters were lead in by a member of the Kingsguard. Sansa tensed up once more, looking down at her feet as her shoulders slumped. She felt that someone was watching her and her skin crawled as she lifted her eyes to see Joffrey looking at her with thinly veiled hunger. She swallowed hard, nervous once again. Sansa watched as the Lannisters all sank into bows and curtsies. Tommen was missing on account of his age.

“I do hope that Lady Sansa has not been bothersome. We were not aware that she would arrive before us.” Cersei said, her eyes glittering as she shot her a look.

Sansa almost shrunk back at the blatant insult spoken before the royal family.

“Quite the opposite. She has been very pleasant.” Elia spoke up in Sansa’s defense.

Cersei and Tywin looked surprised at her words while Tyrion looked at her with a smile. Joffrey simply looked around with a bored expression. Sansa looked at the queen with a slight smile, grateful for her words.

“Shall we eat?” Rhaegar said, breaking the silence.

They all sat at the table, the women seating themselves first. Once they were settled, servants seemed to appear with food out of nowhere. Their plates were quickly laden with food and they began eating. Sansa was seated between Rhaenys and Joffrey, her heart pounding as his hand reached underneath the table and touched her thigh. She almost jumped but forced herself to keep her reaction muted. She inhaled quietly, faltering as she reached for her cup of wine.

“What activities do you enjoy, Lady Sansa?” Daenerys asked, putting the attention on her once more.

Joffrey’s fingers tightened on her leg and she forced herself to put on a pleasant face despite the pain.

“I enjoy songs and books, my princess, as well as riding.” Sansa replied before eating a bite of pork.

“Hmm,” the king’s sister said, glancing at her firstborn nephew. “Aegon is quite an accomplished rider.”

Sansa almost frowned, wondering why the princess was mentioning it to her.

“Not nearly so much as my brother.” Aegon said, nodding at Jon, who glanced up with wide eyes as he was brought into the conversation.

“If we are comparing, Rhaenys is quite good as well.” he said, looking at their sister.

“Perhaps we shall all go riding together.” Rhaenys said with a smile, looking at Sansa for approval.

Joffrey’s fingers dug into her skin hard enough to leave bruises and she forced herself to keep the tears at bay.

“That sounds quite enjoyable, Your Grace. Name the day and I shall be happy to attend.” She said in a stilted voice.

Rhaenys frowned at the tone in her voice and her eyes flickered to Joffrey. The pressure on her leg suddenly stopped as his hand disappeared and Sansa fought the urge to sigh with relief. Cersei broke in, clearly not enjoying the subject of the conversation.

“I have heard that your nameday shall be a lavish occasion, Your Grace.” She said to the king, looking at him with a smile.

“Yes, I have left the planning up to my wife and my sister so I am certain that it will be quite the event.” Rhaegar nodded, barely lifting his eyes from his food.

“It shall be wonderful,” Daenerys cut in with a smile. “My goodsister and I have made certain of it.”

Elia nodded in agreement, a small smile on her face as well. Dinner went on gracefully until the last course. Several different desserts were brought out on silver platters and placed before them. They were colorful and looked delicious but Sansa’s only had eyes for one plate. The lemon cakes looked perfect and she longed to taste one.

“What say you, Lady Sansa?” Queen Elia asked.

She looked up with surprise at being singled out once more.

“Lemon cakes are my favorite.” She admitted.

“We know,” Rhaenys said, a smile on her face. “Feel free.” 

She gestured to the platter and Sansa reached out hesitantly, picking one up to place on her plate. The rest of the table began reaching for their own desserts as Joffrey leaned in close to her.

“Take care that you do not eat too many. Not many men will be willing to marry you if you grow fat and ugly as well as being a traitor’s daughter.” He said in a low voice.

Her face burned with humiliation at his words and she prayed to the old gods and the new that no one else heard him. She cut off a small piece of the cake, eating the bite slowly as she bowed her head.

“How do you like it, my lady?” Aegon asked.

“It is delicious, my prince.” Sansa said with a forced smile despite the fact that she barely tasted the food that she normally enjoyed so much.

As if the rest of the table did not sense the falsity of her statement, they went on eating their own desserts. The only eyes that remained on her were those of Prince Jon. He looked concerned but she simply glanced away from him, taking a deep breath as she put her fork down. Sansa could not face eating anymore after Joffrey’s cruel words.

\----------

When she arrived back at her chambers, Sansa sighed as she leaned against the door. Joanna was waiting on her, a big smile on her face.

“My lady, you must see something.” She said, her voice barely hiding her excitement.

“What?” Sansa asked, feeling exhausted yet curious at what could cause her excitement.

Joanna seized her hand and pulled her to a curtain that hung on a wall in the corner of the room behind her bed. She pushed it aside to reveal a door. Sansa’s eyes widened as she opened it with a key that was in the lock. They walked inside and she saw that it was her own personal solar. She looked around with awe, brushing her hand over a heavy wooden desk and glimpsing a line of books in a shelf. By a fireplace, there were several plush chairs and a tapestry of Florian and Jonquil hanging on one of the walls. On the other, there was a large stitching of a grey direwolf running across a white field, the sigil of her House.

“It is beautiful.” she breathed, unable to believe that she was looking upon the direwolf.

“Look at this.” Jonna said, opening two glass doors.

They stepped out onto the balcony and her mouth opened with shock at the view of the water, King’s Landing, and the Kingswood.

“I cannot believe this is all for me.” Sansa said quietly.

“The royal family must like you quite a lot.” Joanna said confidently, leaning over the railing with ahappy grin.

She glanced over at her handmaiden, thinking on her words carefully. Either they liked her or they wanted something, a difference that Sansa was forced to learn quickly in her time at Casterly Rock.

\----------

Sansa woke early, breaking her fast quickly before washing up and dressing. Her long hair was braided over her shoulder and she wore a purple dress with lighter purple flowers embroidered into the fabric. Around her waist was a metal belt with a rose clasp to fasten it. As always, she wore the direwolf necklace that disappeared into the neckline of her dress and settled between her breasts. There was a knock on the door and Sansa turned, her heart fluttering in her chest as she nodded at Joanna to answer it. A servant in the livery of the Targaryens stood there with a piece of parchment in his hand. He handed it to Joanna before hurrying off.

“Prince Jon awaits you in the Queen’s Ballroom.” She said with a slight smile.

Sansa took a deep breath, nodding at her as she sprinkled rose water onto her neck and wrists.

“Do you need a chaperone, my lady?” Joanna asked, clearly amused.

She flushed and shook her head.

“I believe that the prince will be a perfect gentleman. You may take this time for yourself, Joanna.” she said, heading for the door.

Sansa paused, turning to hold her hand out.

“The key to the solar.” She requested.

Joanna hesitated before handing it over to her.

“You spoil my fun.” The other woman said.

“That is a burden I shall have to live with.” Sansa replied with a slight smile, dropping it into a hidden pocket in her skirts before turning to walk out.

She did not hurry, not wanting to seem too eager. Her hands were clasped before her as she entered the ballroom once more. Prince Jon was waiting in the middle of the room where the table stood the previous night. He turned to glance at her when he heard the sound of her footsteps.

“My lady.” He said, bowing to her and kissing her hand.

“My prince.” She said, curtsying to him.

Sansa looked up at him as she straightened up.

“Please, Your Grace, you are welcome to call me Sansa.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards at her words and she relished in the near smile that she inspired.

“Then I will plead that you call me Jon.” He replied.

She nodded in agreement as he let her hand go and offered her his escort. Sansa slid her hand into the crook of his arm and he led her out of the ballroom into the sunshine. A member of the guard shadowed them, ensuring the prince’s safety as they walked.

“I feel the need to apologize for my sister. She can be a bit forward when something excites her. I cannot imagine that I was your ideal companion for the day but I thought I should speak up lest you be stuck with my uncle.” Jon said.

“No, my prin… Jon. Your company is very welcome.” Sansa said quickly, wishing to assure him of her honesty.

He looked over at her, searching her bright blue eyes as they walked across the moat.

“You truly mean that.” Jon said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Of course I do.” Sansa confirmed.

He looked torn between disbelief and pleasure at her words.

“Why would I speak false to you? I have no reason.” Sansa said.

“It is often that people prefer my elder brother or sister to myself.” Jon admitted, glancing away from her.

She recognized that he felt inadequate to Aegon and shook her head.

“Your sister is lovely and your brother is charming but I enjoy a calm presence more than any of that. You are the perfect person for this tour, if it does not bother you to say. I know that you must have more important things to do…”

Jon cut her off with a shake of his head.

“I am hardly an important man in the kingdom, Sansa. I can spare time for a beautiful woman. In this instance, I think that I have inspired Aegon’s jealousy for the first time since my birth.” He said.

Sansa smiled at him, a flush filling her cheeks.

“You are too kind, Jon.” She said in a quiet voice.

“On the contrary, my lady, I am not nearly kind enough.” he replied.

Their conversation was cut off when he led her into the library. They remained there looking at the old, dusty volumes for quite a while until they exited and walked to the sept. Sansa looked around at the statues but when she glanced back at Jon, she saw that his gaze was hardly reverent as he looked upon the holy place.

“Do you keep the old gods, Jon?” she asked, already sensing the answer to her question.

He looked at her with surprise before nodding slowly.

“I do.” He answered.

She stepped towards him, extending her hand once more. For some reason, being in his presence inspired confidence within her and she did not feel afraid to request something of him.

“Will you take me to the Heart Tree?” she asked.

He permitted, leading her out of the sept and towards the godswood. They did not speak, each comfortable in the silence as they walked through the trees. Sunlight filtered through them and lit their way as they approached the weirwood tree with the carved face. Sansa inhaled deeply, separating from Jon as she walked to it and knelt before it, her hand touching the white bark of the Heart Tree.

“It has been so long,” She breathed, not knowing if she was speaking to herself or Jon. “I scarcely remember.”

Sansa looked up at the face of the tree before closing her eyes as a breeze rippled through the clearing. Jon stood silently behind her, giving her a moment of peace.

“You look like a Stark,” she said quietly, opening her eyes once more as she let her hand fall. “You look like my father.”

There was no reply for several moments and she turned to see Jon looking down at the ground. Sansa stood, turning to face him.

“I apologize, Your Grace. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable.” Sansa said softly, realizing that she should have shut her mouth.

He looked up at her, shaking his head.

“I’m not uncomfortable, I’m just unused to anyone speaking to me about that side of my family.” He admitted.

She frowned at him.

“Are you ashamed of it? Because of the part that my father took in the war?” she asked.

“No, not at all. I wish to know more about the Starks.” 

Sansa sighed, looking down at her hands.

“As do I.” she said.

“You probably know more than I do.” Jon said sadly.

Sansa looked up at him once more and took a deep breath, walking towards him.

“I will tell you all that I know about the Starks if you’ll tell me everything about the Targaryens.” she said.

“Don’t you know everything already? I was under the impression that noble children throughout Westeros would be taught such things.”

Sansa did not want to admit to him that the Lannisters did not put a high value on her education and most of what she learned, she did in the library at Casterly Rock and there weren’t many books on the Targaryens.

“I know High Valyrian.” she said as if it would make him forgive her for lacking in the knowledge of his family.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards once more and Sansa wondered if she would ever see him truly smile. Jon offered her his arm and they walked out of the godswood together towards the Great Hall.

“You know Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives.” He began.

“Visenya and Rhaenys.” Sansa nodded, knowing at least that much.

He continued speaking of his ancestors as they stepped into the Great Hall. Sansa’s breath was taken away when she looked up and saw the dragon skulls mounted on the wall. Jon stopped speaking, watching as she took in the terrifying yet beautiful sight. Sansa turned around several as she walked along the expanded room, unable to take her eyes off of the monstrous skulls. The prince followed her patiently, used to the sight of his ancestor’s dragons. When she came to a stop just before the dais, Sansa turned and looked up at the Iron Throne.

“It is just as fearsome as I imagined it.” she said as he stepped up beside her.

They both remained silent as she studied the forged steel. Jon glanced over at her, seeing that she was biting her lip hesitantly.

“What is it?” he asked, curious of her thoughts.

As a person who remained quiet most of the time, he developed the ability to read people through their facial expressions. He could almost know what they were thinking before they spoke it. It was a skill he particularly developed with his siblings. But with Sansa, Jon was having a hard time knowing what she was thinking.

“It looks uncomfortable.” she whispered.

He stared at her with a stunned look for a moment before breaking out into laughter. Sansa looked at him with surprise, her eyes taking in his look. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his smile made his entire face light up. She could not help but smile as well, deciding that she liked this look on the prince. Jon controlled himself and shook his head.

“Isn’t this intimate?”

They both whirled around, Jon’s laughter ceasing as Viserys stepped out of the shadows of the room.

“Uncle.” Jon said, sounding less than pleased to see him.

“Your Grace.” Sansa said, sinking into a curtsy.

Viserys smirked, looking at her with a strange glint in his eye as she straightened up.

“Isn’t she a polite one, dearest nephew?” he said, almost sounding as though he was taunting them both.

Sansa looked between him and Jon, wondering if they were as adverse to each other as it seemed. When she saw Jon coming very close to glaring at him, she knew that they must not have been friendly.

“Come, Sansa. I will take you to the small hall and the Tower of the Hand.” He said, holding his arm out.

She took it, eager to get away from Viserys and his uncomfortable crazed staring.

“Does he dislike me?” she murmured as they walked out of the hall.

Jon shook his head, gritting his teeth.

“He is not worth fretting over, my lady.” He said, guiding her the opposite way of the Tower of the Hand.

“Jon?” Sansa said questioningly as they approached Maegor’s Holdfast.

“I apologize, Sansa. I have just remembered a previous engagement that I committed to. I fear that I must take my leave from you, though I would continue our tour if I could.” he said, walking with her across the bridge over the moat.

She felt her heart sink as they entered the Queen’s Ballroom.

“Is it because of Prince Viserys?” she asked.

“No, my lady. I just… you should be careful.” Jon said, glancing around before looking at her.

Sansa was confused and her face must have betrayed such an emotion.

“He’s not good.” He whispered before turning away from her.

She watched with a furrowed brow as Jon approached the door to leave but paused, turning back to her. He walked towards her once more and took her hand gently, bending over to kiss it lightly.

“I did enjoy our time together, Lady Sansa. You are a most lovely companion.” He said, staring into her eyes as he straightened up.

“You as well, my prince.” She said, curtsying to him.

He took a deep breath before stepping in closer to her. Sansa inhaled sharply at his closeness.

“I visit the godswood each morning just after dawn before I break my fast.” Jon murmured.

Then he was gone, leaving her alone in the ballroom as the door shut quietly behind him. At least, she thought she was alone. Sansa turned to walk back to her chambers but a voice stopped her.

“How kind of him to take pity on the traitor’s daughter.” 

Sansa startled, looking around to see Cersei step out of the shadow of a pillar. She had a smirking look on her face that was no dissimilar from the one that Viserys wore in the throne room. Suddenly, Sansa wondered if the Targaryens were the only family with a tendency for madness. 

“My lady?” Sansa said despite having heard her clearly.

“You and I must talk, Lady Sansa. As my chambers are not in this Keep, I am not permitted up to yours. Would you do me a kindness and speak with me?” she replied.

That was how Sansa found herself allowing Cersei into her room. She shut the door behind her and joined her at the table at Cersei’s suggestion. They sat across from each other for several minutes in silence until the other woman spoke.

“I want to make something clear, Lady Sansa. I do not believe that you are worthy of my son. You have traitor’s blood that could taint the Lannister bloodline and I think you a rather stupid girl. Therefore, I intend to do everything within my power to prevent a marriage between the two of you. Judging by the slow movements that you sometimes adopt, I do not think that this suggestion is an unwelcome one from you. I think that we can work together to achieve the same ends.” Cersei said.

Sansa stared at her, unsure if she heard her right.

“You wish to work with me… to ensure that I do not marry Joffrey?” she questioned.

“My Joffrey deserves the best and that is certainly not you. If you promise to do the best you can to charm whatever man shows his interest towards you, I can ensure you that I will arrange a good marriage for you. My father will be easily swayed in this matter as he really could not care if you marry or not. I, on the other hand, recognize that to let you free from our protection when you come of age allows Eddard Stark the freedom to make alliances of his own through your hand in marriage. It is our duty… my duty… to prevent that.”

Sansa hardly knew how to react to Cersei’s words. One hand, the woman continuously insulted her and treated her like a child. On the other, she was promising her freedom from Joffrey and freedom from the Lannisters. If she truly meant what she said, Sansa would never have to live within her prison again.

“Is this why you sent me the gowns and the jewelry?” she asked.

“You should look your best if you are to attract a husband. You have a natural beauty that will do wonders but it also helps to dress that up a little bit. I expect that you will start taking advantage of the jewels I sent for you.” the older woman said.

Sansa was still unable to wrap her head around this.

“What do you expect of me in return, my lady?” she asked hesitantly.

“Be charming and sweet. I shall do the rest.” Cersei said simply before standing to walk out of her room.

Sansa sat there for several minutes as she wondered if this was all too good to be true. Her first instinct was that yes, it was too good. She had a dreadful feeling that she would wake the next day and find that her nightmare had returned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa spends time with the princess and princes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who is commenting. You are all so kind.

In the days leading up to the week of festivities, the Red Keep was becoming rather crowded with nobles. Sansa much preferred to remain out of the way, not wanting to call too much attention to herself. With the way that the Lannisters looked upon her family name, she couldn’t imagine what other houses would think of her presence. She often remained within the hidden solar, reading a book on the balcony or sewing by the fireplace. Each morning, she woke just before dawn and forced herself out of the comfort of her bed. Sansa would get as far as bathing and dressing before she froze with her hand on the door. Each time she intended to join Jon in the godswood, something tugged at her mind and stopped her.

_How kind of him to take pity on the traitor’s daughter._

Cersei’s words managed to worm their way into her thoughts and settled there so that each time she thought of the prince, she was filled with doubt. As manipulative and horrible as the former lady of Storm’s End could be, she did offer to help Sansa avoid marrying Joffrey and she knew that’s what she should have been focusing on rather than a royal who most likely was kind to her out of pity or duty. So she would step back, turning around as she pulled the key to her solar out of a hidden pocket that she’d sewn on each of her dresses. Joanna would watch her with confusion as she walked into the hidden room and shut the door, hiding herself away from the world. That day, however, she was not given the chance to shut herself away. The invitation came just as she was soaking in the bath with lavender soap in her hand.

“Princess Rhaenys requests that you receive the guests with her today. You will be in the throne room.” Joanna read from the parchment with the summons.

Sansa was tempted to refuse, wanting to claim a headache or another sickness that might keep her bedridden. In her chosen solitude, she was also able to keep herself away from Joffrey. He was not allowed within the passageways that connected the royal apartments so he could not find her within her rooms. Even if he did come to her chambers, it was unlikely that he would be able to find the door to the solar. But if she withdrew from the chambers and left Maegor’s Holdfast, she would be putting herself into his sights once more and Sansa knew that he would find a way to get her alone. He always did. But she could not remain hidden away forever. It would be an insult to the invitation that Rhaenys gave her to come to King’s Landing.

“Choose a dress for me. And jewels.” Sansa sighed, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub.

“Yes, my lady.” Joanna replied.

\----------

As she walked towards the throne room, Joanna was two steps behind her. Sansa felt the eyes of knights, lords, and ladies alike on her as she moved across the courtyard. Her hair was lit like fire in the sunlight, fashioned in the northern style with her curls falling around her shoulder. Her gown was a dark mauve color with golden embroidery around the neckline and hem. Around her throat was a golden rose necklace. Sansa reluctantly took the direwolf necklace off, slipping it into the pocket of her gown.

“Do you know why the princess wanted me here?” Sansa asked, glancing back at Joanna.

She nodded at her handmaiden to walk next to her and Joanna sped up slightly to do so.

“I do not, my lady. Perhaps she is concerned.”

Sansa frowned at the word.

“Concerned. What reason would she have to be concerned?” she wondered.

“She does not know you as well as others, Lady Sansa. You have a predilection for being alone but to an outside eye, it seems like you are hiding from something.”

Sansa did not want to admit to her that she was hiding from many things.

“Perhaps the princess only wishes to ensure that you are faring well.” Joanna continued.

She didn’t reply to her words as they climbed the steps to enter the Great Hall. Two guards opened the doors for them and they stepped inside of the room. Sansa’s awe was not lessened as she stared around the large room for the second time. The dragons loomed over them and the Iron Throne was still as intimidating as ever. For a moment, she wondered what the king looked like as he sat on the forged chair.

“Sansa!” a delighted voice rang out.

She did not have to look to see who it was but she turned her head nonetheless, catching sight of Rhaenys walking towards her with a pleased look on her face. Sansa couldn’t help but smile at the princess, realizing that she’d missed her company even though she did not know her well. Rhaenys reached her, embracing her eagerly and kissing both of her cheeks.

“I have been very concerned for you.” she said, hooking their arms together as seemed to be a habit for her.

“You are too kind.” Sansa said, ducking her head.

“Nonsense,” Rhaenys brushed off with a flick of her hand. “Your presence has been sorely missed.”

She looked over at the princess, trying in vain to discover whether she was speaking the truth or whether it was politeness that forced the words from her mouth.

“I discovered the hidden solar that connects to my room.” she said, testing her response.

Rhaenys beamed over at her as they approached the dais.

“I was so hoping that you would. I wanted to tell you of its existence but I thought I would let you discover it on your own. I thought it might be better that way.” she said, excitement causing her entire face to light up.

Sansa so wanted to trust her and believe her. Warmth started to spread through her chest but she forced it aside, not wanting to end up burned if the royal family was not as genuine as they seemed. After all, Joffrey seemed like a perfect gentleman to her at one point.

“The direwolf banner and the blankets on my bed… did you arrange that?” she asked curiously.

Rhaenys’ smile faltered for a moment but before she could explain, they heard a throat clear from behind them. They both turned to see two men standing there. Sansa’s eyes flickered over them, taking in the grey streaked hair and green-grey eyes of the first man and the bald head and outrageous silks on his body of the second man. A faint smell of lilacs hung in the air and Sansa could not figure out which man it came from though she could likely guess.

“Lady Sansa, these are two of the men of my father’s council. Petyr Baelish and Varys, Master of Coin and Master of Whisperers.” Rhaenys introduced them.

Baelish bowed to her, kissing her hand.

“When I heard that Catelyn Tully’s daughter would be at court today, I had to introduce myself.” He said, smiling.

Sansa stared at him for a moment, realizing that his smile didn’t go to his cunning eyes. She pulled her hand out of his hand and chills crawled up her spine.

“Catelyn Stark, Lord Baelish,” Sansa corrected him before she could really think of what she was saying. “You know my mother?”

“Of course, my lady. I was a ward of Hoster Tully at Riverrrun. I grew up with Cat and your aunt, Lysa.” Petyr answered.

“A domestic childhood, I’m certain.” Varys cut in, looking at Sansa with a small smile.

She wasn’t sure what to make of these two men. One of them looked at her with thinly veiled hunger in his eyes and the other looked as though his plans were coming to fruition because of her.

“Sweet Sansa, we are lucky to have your presence here. Perhaps former wrongs will be made right.” the Master of Whispers said, drifting off before she could fully process his words.

Sansa frowned after him, confusion clear on her face.

“He is always that vague.” Baelish assured her before turning to walk off as well.

Sansa glanced over at Rhaenys, wondering what he meant.

“Princess.”

They both turned to see a servant bowing to her respectfully.

“House Marbrand.” He said, gesturing to the door.

“It’s that time again.” Rhaenys sighed before putting a charming smile on her face and gesturing for them to walk forward.

Sansa began to understand the monotony of what the princess was doing by the fourth house to arrive. Her feet were aching and she wanted nothing more than to collapse in whatever chair was closest. When she glanced over her shoulder at the Iron Throne, Sansa fought the almost hysterical laugh that threatened to bubble up in her throat.

“House Tarly.” The steward announced.

Sansa took a deep breath, turning back to face the men that were approaching. There were three of them, two rather tall and lean with serious faces. The third was a squat man who continued to shoot nervous looks at his father. He had dark hair, pale eyes, and looked as though he could break out into a sweat at any moment.

“Lord Randyll Tarly, Your Grace.” The older man said, sweeping into a bow that his sons mimicked.

“Lord Tarly.” Rhaenys nodded at him, her face solemn.

Sansa wondered if the nobles that came through could see the flicker of annoyance in the princess’s eyes each time they presented themselves.

“My sons, Samwell and Dickon Tarly.” Randyll said.

She was taken aback by the tone of disgust when he spoke the name of his older son. Samwell shrunk back, looking down at his feet with his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“You are welcome to court, Lord Tarly. May I present to you Lady Sansa Stark?” Rhaenys said.

She put a graceful smile on her face, nodding at the man and his second son.

“My lady.” Randyll and Dickon murmured.

Her eyes flickered to Samwell, who still hadn’t looked up.

“Acknowledge the lady, Samwell.” The lord of Horn Hill hissed at his heir.

Samwell looked up with his pale eyes wide before muttering out a greeting as quietly as he could. Sansa felt sympathy for the poor man who seemed just a few years older than her. After all, she was usually the one reduced to embarrassment when the Lannisters were around.

“How do you like King’s Landing?” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Me?” Samwell said, shocked that she was speaking specifically to him.

Sansa nodded, hoping that there was an encouraging look on her face.

“It-it’s rather… crowded… and… nice.” The nervous young man said, looking at a spot just past her head so that he did not have to meet her eyes.

Dickon barely hid his snort of derision at his brother’s stammering.

“I had a similar reaction, Lord Samwell. It can be overwhelming at first, don’t you agree?” Sansa asked, feeling defensive of this man at the way that his own kin treated him.

“Y-yes, my lady.” Samwell nodded, looking relieved that she did not look down on him for his words.

Sansa smiled warmly at him.

“There is a wonderful view of King’s Landing from the library tower, if you wish to see it.” she said.

He smiled back, nodding at her.

“I will take your advice, Lady Sansa.” Samwell said, finally losing his stutter as he looked at her gratefully.

“Perhaps I will join you one day.” She said.

Randyll and Dickon looked stunned at her words and at the fact that she was paying any attention to Samwell at all. When Sansa glanced over at Rhaenys, she saw that the princess looked amused, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I will give you leave to settle, Lord Tarly.” Rhaenys said.

They all bowed once more, turning to leave the throne room.

“You were very kind to him.”

She took a deep breath.

“Someone should be.” Sansa replied, glancing over at Rhaenys.

The princess looked at her with approval, nodding in agreement.

“House Tyrell, Your Grace.”

Their heads turned quickly. Sansa watched with wide eyes as the Tyrells drew near to them. Their group was impressive, each dressed in different shades and styles of green and gold.

“Lord Mace Tyrell, my princess.” The oldest man said, sweeping into a low bow.

The rest followed his lead before straightening up.

“Present your family to me, Lord Tyrell.” Rhaenys instructed.

The man nodded, turning to face his kin.

“My mother, the Lady Olenna Redwyne.” He said, gesturing to a wizened old woman who walked with a cane.

Her keen eyes flickered over Rhaenys and settled on Sansa with a strange glint. She barely heard the rest of the introductions before a young man stepped forward. He must have been exactly Sansa’s age. His brown hair shone in the light of the throne room and his golden eyes met Sansa’s once he greeted Rhaenys. He bent over, kissing her hand with a soft brush of his lips.

“A pleasure, Lady Stark.” He said in a smooth voice.

Sansa stared at him with surprise as he straightened up, obviously expecting her to speak.

“Ser Loras.” She nodded at him, remembering his name from his father’s words.

This was the famed Knight of Flowers, a beautiful young man who could do wonders with a sword.

“The pleasure is mine.” Sansa continued, smiling sweetly.

A young woman stepped forward and she knew that it had to be Margaery Tyrell. She was as beautiful as her brother.

“It must be fated that you greet us, Lady Sansa. You are wearing the sigil of our house.” She said, nodding at her throat.

Sansa reached up and touched the golden rose around her neck, realizing that Margaery was right. She suddenly felt the startling urge to rip it off and throw it to the ground.

“I would like to claim forethought, Lady Margaery, but it is simply a happy coincidence.” she said, keeping her voice falsely cheerful.

“It fits you, Lady Sansa.” Loras said, a charming smile on his face.

“Thank you, ser.” She nodded at him.

Once the Tyrell family left to settle themselves, the steward announced that there were no more houses to present. Rhaenys sighed with relief once they were left alone, her shoulders dropping and her shoes slipping off of her feet. Sansa watched with surprise as she sat on the stone steps that led up to the throne.

“You may sit as well, Sansa. I know that your feet must be hurting you as mine are.” She said.

Sansa took advantage of the invitation, letting out a whimper of relief when the pressure was taken off of her feet.

“How would you like to get away from King’s Landing for the rest of the day?” Rhaenys questioned.

She looked back at her with an interested look, wondering what she meant.

“Jon and Aegon are likely to go riding and they have invited us along, if you wish to accompany them.”

Sansa flushed, looking down at her hands. She hadn’t seen Prince Jon since he practically dragged her away from Viserys and warned her about his uncle.

“I would enjoy that.” she said, taking advantage of any situation that would get her away from the Lannisters.

\----------

When she walked into her chambers, Joanna closed the door behind them.

“The grey riding dress.” Sansa instructed her, slipping the bracelets off of her wrists.

She reached up for her necklace, hesitating as she held the thin golden chain in her hand.

“Why did you give me this, Joanna?” she asked, glancing back at her handmaiden.

Joanna glanced up, catching of the rose pendant.

“It looked beautiful with the dress, my lady.” She said innocently.

Sansa stared at her for a moment before reminding herself that she never gave her any reason to distrust her.

“Thank you.” she said simply, laying it on the table and turning so that Joanna could unlace her dress.

Once she was dressed in the riding dress, Sansa pulled on her riding boots and sat in front of her looking glass. Joanna combed through her hair with deft fingers before pulling it away from her face into a braided style that ended in a twisted bun at the crown of her head. Before she turned to leave, Sansa put the direwolf necklace on once more and breathed a sigh of relief, tucking it into her dress.

“You may remain.” she said to Joanna before turning to leave.

Sansa felt strangely free, walking to the stables alone. When she saw that her mare was already saddled and waiting, a smile formed on her face. She didn’t realize how much she missed riding until this moment. Her gloved fingers ran through Myriah’s mane as she murmured in her horse’s ear.

“Lady Sansa,” a voice said behind her. “I did not believe that you would join us.”

She turned to see Prince Aegon approaching her, a surprised look on his face.

“Your sister is rather convincing, my prince.” Sansa replied, smiling at him.

“Now that I do believe.” He said with a grin.

“Oh hush.” Rhaenys said, walking to them with a dark red riding dress.

Jon walked a few steps behind his sister, his eyes fixed on Sansa. She looked back at him, praying that he did not feel anger towards her for not joining him in the godswood. She wished that she could explain to him but looking back on her reasons, they all seemed rather foolish and she would rather not prove herself to be a stupid as Cersei claimed.

“Shall we?” Rhaenys said, walking to a dark brown horse.

Aegon and Jon both had stallions, the first black and the other dark grey. Sansa watched as Jon effortlessly swung himself into the dark grey horse’s saddle. When she heard armor clinking behind her, she turned to see that a member of the kingsguard was offering to help her into the saddle.

“Ser Barristan.” she breathed, recognizing him.

“My lady.” He nodded at her.

She accepted his hand as he held Myriah still for her.

“I think that I remember my father praising your bravery, ser.” Sansa said, favoring him with a smile once she was perched atop her horse.

“My bravery is nothing compared to Eddard Stark’s honor, Lady Sansa.” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said.

She watched as he mounted a white horse and three other white-cloaked knights trotted up to escort them. As they moved towards the gate, two of the guards rode in front and two in the back to protect the royal children. Sansa and Rhaenys rode behind Aegon and Jon. Moving through the city was much different this time. Sansa watched as the people stopped to pay heed to their beloved princess and princes. They shouted praise to them and she knew that they loved them. Their reception was much different from the way that the people of Lannisport treated the Lannisters. They barely acknowledged them as they rode through the town and she even spotted a few glares and muttered curses sent the way of the golden-haired family.

Once they reached the Iron Gate that would take them out of King’s Landing, the doors were opened for them immediately. As soon as they were on Rosby Road, the royal siblings did not hesitate before taking off at a faster speed. Sansa did the same, receiving a nod from Rhaenys just before she kicked her horse into action. She easily kept up with them, feeling exhilarated at the freeing feeling that came with riding so quickly. To their right, the Blackwater glittered in the sunlight. They did not ride for long before arriving at a sandy coast that the water touched. The Kingsguard remained behind as their horses trotted out on the sand.

Sansa saw the servants and the blankets that were spread on the ground and smiled at the sight. They were having a picnic by the water, something that took her by surprise. Aegon and Jon stopped first, dismounting their horses to help them off. Sansa was relieved that when Jon caught her and eased her descent, she did not have pain to hide.

“Thank you, my prince.” She said, tucking her hand into his elbow when he offered it.

Jon nodded at her, the corners of his mouth barely lifted as he escorted her to the blanket. They all sat as food was laid out for them. Sansa reached for a sliced peach almost immediately, favoring the burst of flavor on her tongue from the fruit.

“How did you find the recently arrived houses today, dear sister?” Aegon questioned.

Rhaenys sighed, drawing it out as she shook her head and took a sip of wine.

“Horribly pompous, as always. Sansa put Randyll Tarly in his place in a very kind way when he snubbed his heir, which was interesting to watch.” She said.

Sansa raised her eyes, surprised at her description of the favor she showed to Samwell. Rhaenys winked at her, looking amused.

“I do love when horribly pompous lords get put in their place.” Aegon said, nodding at her with a grin.

She smiled back, sipping at the honey wine.

“Sam is kind.” Jon said, looking at her with a grateful look.

“You know him?” she asked.

Rhaenys nodded, leaning forward.

“The Tarlys visited last year and Jon got along with Samwell much better than Dickon.”

“If by that, you mean that he almost killed Dickon in the training yard and made him cry for calling Sam a coward, you are right.” Aegon said with amusement.

“I didn’t almost kill him.” Jon sighed, looking out at the water.

Sansa wondered if this was a discussion that the brothers had before.

“Speaking of the training yard…”

Aegon trailed off, gesturing to his sword belt that was lying on the blanket. Jon glanced at him before looking at his own sword. Neither of them said another word, grabbing their swords before leaping up. Sansa watched as they began sparring, obviously taking it easy so that neither would harm the other.

“Do they do this often?” she asked.

“All the time.” Rhaenys sighed.

Sansa tore her eyes away from the violent yet graceful dance that they were doing to look at the princess. Rhaenys looked resigned, as if she deal with this each day. In the depths of her eyes, Sansa spotted something that made all of her suspicions of the princess melt away. Rhaenys was lonely. Her brothers had each other, her parents had each other, and Daenerys and Viserys had each other. She was the odd one out without another person to confide in or spend time with. Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reasoning behind her invitation to the festivities.

“Rhaenys, did you decorate my chambers with the Stark colors and sigil?” she asked, wanting the answer to her earlier curiosities.

The princess glanced over at her, taking a deep breath as she sat up.

“No, though I wish that I could have done so. I do so want us to be friends, Sansa.” Rhaenys admitted.

She nodded at her, knowing that this was truly the other female’s wish.

“Be truthful with me, Rhaenys. That is all I wish for in a friend.” Sansa said.

Rhaenys hesitated before speaking once more.

“My mother knew of my father’s wedding to Jon’s mother. She did not react well at first, as is to be expected. Part of her was broken-hearted but another part knew that he found something in Lyanna Stark that he needed. When she pushed past her pain and prejudice, she realized that Lyanna might live at court once the war was over. She decided that she would rather be amiable with the other woman than hateful. So my mother fashioned those chambers for Lyanna. When word came that you were coming, they were cleaned and opened for your stay.”

Sansa considered the story with wide eyes, glancing up as she heard the clashing of steel. Jon had a smile on his face that lit it up in a way that she saw in the Great Hall when he was giving her the tour.

“What did Varys mean? When he spoke of luck and wrongs being made right?” Sansa questioned.

“My father has been rather melancholic since Lyanna’s death. It is to be expected, as he loved her as much as my mother, or possibly more. He started a war for her, after all. My intention was to gain a friendship with you but I am almost certain that others see your presence as a way to bring my father out of the haze that he has been in for the past seventeen years. They think that it is possible that having a Stark around once more could lift his spirits.”

She frowned, looking over at Rhaenys with a spike of fear.

“They do not intend… I will not be expected to marry your father.” She said in a hushed voice.

Rhaenys looked at her with wide eyes, shaking her head.

“No, no of course not. He would not allow it.” she assured her.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as she sipped at her wine. She had enough of the Lannisters trying to control her future without the royal family taking part as well.

“Are you angry?” Rhaenys wondered.

She looked over at her before shaking her head.

“I am grateful to you, Princess. It is not often that I can expect the truth.”

Rhaenys grinned at her words.

“I suppose this means that we’re friends now.”

Sansa smiled as well, letting the warmth fill her without pushing it away.

“I suppose it does.” She agreed.

\----------

As soon as they arrived at the Red Keep once more, Sansa went back to her chambers to change for dinner. She entered and frowned as she glanced around. Joanna was nowhere to be seen. After deciding that she must be fetching something for her, Sansa closed the door and moved to her bed. She paused in taking her boots off, staring down at the grey and white bedding that should have been her aunt’s. Sansa let her hand drift over the blanket before turning to the curtain that covered the door to the solar. She walked to it, pushing it aside before remembering that she didn’t have the key. Sansa reached into the pocket of the dress and frowned when she didn’t feel it there.

After remembering that she left it in the other dress, she started to turn around before glimpsing that the key was already in the lock. Sansa frowned, wondering if Joanna snuck in there while she was gone. Sansa pulled the door open, stepping inside. Her handmaiden was nowhere to be seen but one of the balcony doors was slightly open.

“Joanna?” Sansa called, walking towards the glass door.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

She whirled around with a gasp, watching as Joffrey stepped out of the shadows of the room.

“How do you know about this?” Sansa said in a shaking voice, suddenly wishing that she hadn’t come in.

“It doesn't matter.” he said simply advancing on her.

Sansa didn’t think about what she was doing before she darted for the door. Just before her hand closed around the doorknob, Joffrey’s hand caught her arm and dragged her back. Sansa started to let out a loud scream but his hand covered her mouth as he pulled her further into the room with a sadistic grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the ending of this chapter. I can't resist a good cliffhanger sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has help in handling the aftermath of her confrontation with Joffrey. The night before the tourney, she is invited to a banquet with no Lannisters in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep saying this but thank you all so much. I don't think I've had this immediate of a positive reaction to a fic ever so I am so grateful to everyone that is making this such a joy to write. Your comments are so wonderful and they are appreciated more than you know.

The water of the tub was tainted as the maid gently ran a cloth over Sansa’s back. She was leaning forward with her knees pulled to her chest and her hair over her shoulder, clutching at the edge of the tub with tears sliding down her cheeks. To her credit, the maid did not ask any questions about how Sansa received the wounds, not that she would answer them.

“I should get the Grand Maester, my lady.” The maid said quietly.

“No,” Sansa shook her head. “Go get Tyrion Lannister.”

“My lady?”

She turned to look at the woman to see surprise in her eyes. The maid was not a simple girl and she must have had suspicions of how Sansa came to be bruised and bloody.

“Go.” Sansa said shortly, sending her off.

The maid hurried out, closing the door behind her. Sansa looked up at Joanna who was in the corner with her hands over her mouth and tears shining in her eyes. She did not feel pity for the woman who looked like she wanted to pour out a thousand apologies. Sansa tried to make her eyes as hard as steel and her voice as cold as ice when she spoke.

“Help me dress.” She said, pulling herself to stand.

“My lady?” Joanna said, her eyes flickering to the bloodstained shift that lay beside the tub.

“Now.” Sansa said, climbing out of the bath on shaking legs.

Once she patted herself down, she slowly pulled on a shift and smallclothes. Joanna helped her dress in her softest light blue gown, tying the laces loosely. Once she was done, Sansa stepped away and braced herself on one of the posts of her bed. Sh fought to keep her body upright as she waited on the youngest of the Lannister siblings to arrive. When a knock sounded on the door, Joanna opened it and Tyrion walked in with a concerned look. He had every reason to be worried as Sansa never called on him once. Jaime, yes, but never Tyrion. Looking at him now, she rather wished that the disgraced knight were there to rescue her instead. Sansa brushed the thoughts aside, reminding herself that life was not a song or a poem and that this was real.

"What can I do for you, Lady Sansa?" Tyrion asked warily, taking in her pale face and exhausted eyes.

Sansa took a deep breath, steeling herself to request his help.

"I need a maester. One outside of the castle." she said, swaying on the spot.

She knew enough about her body to know that losing blood would do her no favors. Tyrion stared at her questioningly. Sansa saw the moment that his eyes fell on the bloody shift that was still lying beside the bathtub where the maid peeled it from Sansa's back and discarded it.

"I have a manse that I purchased for my own uses. We must journey through Flea Bottom and the trip is not pleasant..."

"Please, my lord, I would be in debt to you if you allowed me to travel there."

Tyrion shook his head at her words.

"There is no need for debt, Lady Sansa. I am honor-bound to help you. I shall call upon my litter to take us both."

She sighed with relief, knowing that to take her horse would be suspicious and she wanted to escape suspicion for a while.

"I will not be able to attend meals here." Sansa said.

"Your absence will be pardoned. I will make certain of it." Tyrion assured her.

She nodded at him, knowing that she should show how grateful she was. Only she was so very tired and only wished to sleep.

"Pack the lady's things. I shall escort you down." Tyrion said, instructing Joanna.

Sansa nodded in agreement, brushing past him out of the room without a last look at the woman that she thought was her friend.

\----------

As soon as they arrived at the manse, Sansa looked up at it with surprise. It was rather large and nice, two things that she did not expect but should have. Tyrion led her in and Sansa glanced around, taking in the large windows and open feel of the place.

"My lion?" a voice said.

They both turned to see a woman descending the stairs. She wore a thin gown, her shoulders and arms bare as well as her back. Sansa noted that she was rather pretty but there was something clearly foreign about her looks and voice.

"Shae." Tyrion sighed, stepping towards her.

"Who is this?" Shae questioned.

Sansa could wonder the same thing but she had no right to ask.

“My father’s ward. She has requested asylum for a few days.” Tyrion answered.

She forced a smile on her face as the woman looked her over.

“Fetch a maester. I will escort the lady to our guest chambers.” He said to a servant before gesturing for her to climb the stairs.

Sansa ascended slowly, her hand gripping the banister. When she finally made it to the second landing, she sighed with relief when Tyrion opened the first door on their right.

“Will these suffice?” he asked as she stepped inside.

They were much smaller than her chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast but Sansa would not want to complain even if she could find it within herself to do so. Sansa nodded, turning to face him slowly.

“I am most grateful to you, Lord Tyrion.” She said quietly.

He waved her off before turning to glance at Shae, who was slipping into the room.

“Go,” the older woman said, waving him off. “I will take care of her until the maester comes.”

Tyrion obeyed immediately, turning to walk off. Shae turned towards her with a questioning look in her eyes.

“You should not have dressed with bleeding wounds.” she said.

Sansa realized that the blood must have seeped through the dress and cursed internally.

“Take it off.” Shae sighed.

She did not refuse despite the fact that a person of inferior birth was blatantly telling her what to do. Sansa turned around, allowing her to unlace it.

“The shift as well.” Shae said, helping her ease it over her head.

Sansa did not have the energy to be embarrassed over the fact that she was almost completely bared to this stranger’s gaze. She pulled a ribbon from her wrist and tied her hair up high to keep it out of the wounds. Shae let out a hiss of anger at the sight of her back.

“What happened?” she said.

Sansa looked at her warily as she sank onto the bed and eased down to lie on her stomach. Shae sat next to her, reaching for a cup of water and a cloth.

“You can tell me. I do not know who you are and I do not have the ear of anyone who cares.” she said softly, gently dabbing at the wounds.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the pain. Tears rolled out of her eyes as Joffrey’s cruel treatment flashed through her mind.

“He put a cloth in my mouth so that I could not scream.” She whispered, her hands clutching at the blankets on the bed.

Shae did not respond, concentrating as she cleaned away the blood as it came out. Sansa opened her eyes and watched her face that was creased with concentration.

“He held me down and tried to rip my dress off. When that didn’t work…” she cut off, inhaling sharply at the pain. “He used his dagger to cut the laces and he cut into my skin. He didn’t care. He only laughed when I cried.”

Shae’s jaw tensed and she looked angrier at her words.

“That was when he drew his sword. I thought he might kill me but he liked to see my blood. He hit me across the back until I bled more. Then he… he kissed me as he pulled my hair. He left me behind there and told me that I would never look more beautiful than when I was bleeding.”

By the time she finished, Sansa was shaking and sobbing, burying her head in the pillow. Shae shushed her quietly, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances into her ear. At that moment, though the woman was kind and gentle, she was a poor substitute for the mother that Sansa longed for so desperately. She cried for a long time until no more tears came. She cried for Joffrey’s cruelty, for her life with the Lannisters, for her forced departure from her family, and for her desperation to run away from it all. When she finished, they heard footsteps and turned to see a maester entering with Tyrion. Shae moved out of the way once she covered Sansa’s lower half to allow the man to look at her wounds.

Sansa knew that there were already bruises forming around the cuts. The maester clicked his tongue and opened a bag to pull out several different jars as well as a stack of cloths. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut as he applied herbs and salves to her wounds to encourage them to heal faster and to prevent festering. Once they were cleaned and treated, he pressed the cloths to the wounds to cover them.

“You must keep them covered for the night and she must not move. I will give you milk of the poppy to help with the pain and allow you to sleep. Once you wake, the wounds will still be rather painful. Move only when necessary. I will leave the herbs for you to use. Keep the wounds as clean as possible.” The maester instructed.

Tyrion and Shae nodded but Sansa was already drifting off when he gave her the medicine. Her last thoughts before she drifted into sleep were that she wished that Rhaenys with her easy smile and Jon with his comforting presence were there.

\----------

When she woke after her second night at Tyrion’s manse, it was light outside. Shae was above her tending to her wounds and Tyrion was nowhere to be seen.

“How do you feel?” Shae asked once she covered her wounds once more.

Sansa pushed herself up, wincing at the throbbing pain everywhere in her body. Sure enough, she was bruised in several places.

“You should not move.”

She ignored the warning, walking across the cold stone floor slowly with a blanket clutched around her. She bent over a basin and washed her face as best she could.

“I must return to the Red Keep.” Sansa sighed, looking out of the window.

“Tyrion has said that you can remain here longer.” Shae informed her.

“I cannot,” she said, shaking her head. “I am a ward of Tywin Lannister and in King’s Landing on invitation from the royal family. I have duties to fulfill.”

In her mind, she added that she had a husband to find if she wished to escape from this cycle of abuse from Joffrey.

“I will come with you.” Shae said, stepping forward.

Sansa looked at her with surprise.

“Why?” she asked.

The other woman reached down, pulling up her skirts to show a small dagger strapped to her calf.

“Tyrion told me who you are and what you mean to him and to this world. I will not let anything like this happen to you as long as I am around.” Shae vowed.

Sansa stared into her eyes, getting the sense that the other women had been through something similar.

“Were you married to him?” she asked.

Shae looked sad, shaking her head once.

“Life was not so kind to me.” she admitted.

Sansa took a deep breath, reaching for a clean shift.

“It is not so kind to me either.” she said quietly as she pulled it over her head.

When she looked over at Shae once more, she saw that she was waiting for Sansa to agree.

“What do you know about being a handmaiden?” Sansa asked.

“I am a quick learner, my lady.” Shae replied.

She was not done, wanting to be assured that what happened with Joanna would not be repeated.

“Do you have need of gold?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

“Tyrion provides me with everything that I need.”

It was good enough for her. If Tyrion trusted Shae, then so did she.

“Help me dress.”

\----------

Each step she took sent pain radiating through her body but Sansa was intent on making it back to her chambers herself. As she walked through the courtyard with Shae just behind her, the nobles around her stared and whispered. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it took for word to travel that she disappeared from the Red Keep for two nights.

“They look at you as though you are a show for them.” Shae muttered, stepping up beside her.

“In their minds, that is all that I am.” Sansa replied, holding herself upright as she walked towards Maegor’s Holdfast.

When they approached the castle within a castle, the guards recognized Sansa and allowed her inside.

“She is my handmaiden.” Sansa assured them when they stared at Shae.

They let them pass without question much to her relief. When they crossed the ballroom and made it to the stairs, Sansa leaned against the wall and braced herself with a pained expression.

“My lady?” Shae asked, taking her hand.

She squeezed it tightly, finding it hard to breathe.

“I told you that we should have waited.” Shae sighed.

“I’m all right.” Sansa said, bracing herself before taking a step forward.

She swayed on her feet and Shae caught her, holding her up as they ascended the stairs very slowly. Sansa prayed to the gods that she did not come across any member of the royal family before she managed to make it to her chambers. Halfway up, she stopped to inhale deeply and let out a soft sob of pain when she exhaled. Shae didn’t say a word, waiting until she was able to move again. When they finally made it to the top, she fought the urge to slump against the wall and forced herself to walk down the corridor to her chamber. Shae opened the door that she gestured to and Sansa limped in, almost crying with relief when she saw her bed.

“My lady!”

Her head swiveled around as she saw Joanna leap out of a chair. Sansa’s eyes narrowed at her as she eased her way to her bed. She sat down slowly as Shae closed the door.

“I want the truth from you.” Sansa said in a tight voice.

“My lady I am so…”

She held up her hand, halting Joanna’s apology.

“Did Cersei tell you to dress me with the golden rose necklace when she discovered that I would be greeting the Tyrells?” she asked.

Joanna’s lip quivered as she nodded slowly.

“Did you give Joffrey the key to my solar?”

Another nod from the handmaiden and that was all that Sansa needed to know.

“Gather your belongings and leave. I do not want to see your face ever again and if I do, I will tell the king and queen of your part in this and you will be punished justly.” she said coldly.

“My lady.” Joanna cried, stepping towards her.

Shae stood between them, a protective stance between her new lady and the girl who contributed to her current state.

“You heard her. Out.” she nodded at the door.

Joanna turned, hurrying out with one final teary look at Sansa. When she was gone, Shae closed the door and slid the lock into place.

“Why did she help Tyrion’s family instead of you?” Shae asked, sitting next her.

“I imagine that they were paying her a sum to do their bidding rather than mine. I will not make the same mistake again.” Sansa said, looking over at her.

“I have no reason to be loyal to a family that I have not even met.” Shae assured her.

She did not respond, knowing that she would have to wait and cast judgment on her new handmaiden later.

“I shall require a bath and you can send word to Tyrion that I will be attending the meal tonight.” Sansa said.

“Yes, my lady.” Shae replied, standing up.

\----------

Sansa was saved from facing Joffrey and Cersei when an invitation reached her chambers to dine alone with Rhaenys. The princess must have received word that she was around the castle that day. It came as no surprise to her that she would want to see her. Sansa let Shae clean and bind her wounds before putting on a simple dark grey dress with silver trimming. She wore an amethsyt stone necklace and matching earrings with her hair braided over her shoulder. As soon as she was announced and admitted to the solar of the princess, Rhaenys stood from her chair by the window and looked at her with relief.

“I was concerned for you.” she said, walking to her.

“I am fine, my princess.” Sansa replied, fighting back a wince as they embraced gently.

“Come, let us sit. You look like you could fall over.” Rhaenys said, leading her to a chair as she looked concerned over her pale face.

Sansa eased into a chair and smiled at her, hoping that it reached her eyes. Judging by the princess’ look of doubt, it didn’t fool her.

“It is dreadful that you came down with an illness. You seemed fine on our ride and then I heard that you were unable to leave your chambers.” Rhaenys said, nodding her thanks at the servant.

“I am touched that you have such concern for me, Rhaenys. Truly, I am all right.” Sansa assured her, desperate to be speaking of something else.

Rhaenys stared at her for a moment before nodding in acceptance.

“Well, I hope that you will be well enough to accept my invitation to our private banquet tomorrow evening. The festivities for my father’s nameday have officially begun and we wanted to dine with a few select people before the tourney begins the next day.”

Sansa nodded at her, hardly able to resist such an invitation.

“I suppose I shall sit with the Lannisters.” She said, picking up her cup to take a drink of wine.

Rhaenys barely suppressed a smile as she spoke her next words.

“The Lannisters are not invited.” she said happily.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up and she stared at her questioningly.

“I beg your pardon, my princess?” she said, wanting to clarify what she just said.

Rhaenys grinned at her this time.

“My brothers and I arranged the entire banquet for those closest to our age. My father and mother are holding a different private dinner that the Lannisters shall be invited to.”

Sansa couldn’t shake the feeling that the second dinner was being held to ensure that the Lannisters did not feel slighted by not being invited to the first.

“I hardly know what to say, Rhaenys.” she said, emotional over being named as one of the closest friends of the princes and princess.

“Say yes, please. Save me from a dull night filled with trying to avoid drunken young nobles who step on my feet when we dance.” The princess urged with a smile.

“I could not decline even if I wished to. I am honored to join you.” Sansa said, bowing her head to her.

Rhaenys looked thrilled as they were brought food.

“I rather hoped that you would say yes. You will sit with me, of course.”

Sansa could hardly believe it. Part of her wanted to believe that her luck might be turning with such a devoted friend but she did not want to say that until she was far away from Joffrey and his violent ways.

“Jon and Aegon do express their sympathies for your illness. They would have joined us tonight but they were engaged in a dinner with the Tyrells.” Rhaenys said, popping a grape in her mouth.

Sansa warmed at the mention of the first name and she felt startled at the feeling. When did she start feeling such things at the mention of the younger prince’s name?

“I admit that I do miss them both.” she said, ducking her head.

“Both of them? Or perhaps one more than the other?” Rhaenys asked teasingly.

Sansa’s eyes lifted and she flushed when she heard the insinuation in her voice.

“I am certain that I do not know what you mean, my princess.” she said, fighting back a smile as she picked at a piece of chicken.

Rhaenys simply grinned at her but did not say another word about it to save Sansa from the embarrassment of discussing any preference she might have for one of the princes.

\----------

When Sansa woke early the next morning, she sat up slowly and looked out of the window to see that it had not yet reached dawn. A thrill went through her as she slid out of bed and washed quickly, fashioning her hair in a braid once more. She pulled on a gown that tied in the front, not wanting to bother Shae at this hour. Once she had a cloak clasped around her throat, she slipped out of the room and hurried down the passageway as quickly as she could. It was strange, being out of her room when the rest of the castle was barely awake. The courtyard was almost completely empty except for a few servants who were getting ready for the day.

Sansa pulled the hood over her head, hiding her bright red hair as she walked towards the godswood. Despite the fact that she was only there once, her feet carried her to the Heart Tree without hesitation. It was almost as though the old gods were pulling her towards the weirwood. As she approached the clearing where the large tree stood, she saw a dark figure sitting on a rock in front of it with his head bowed. Sansa took a deep breath, knowing that she could not just walk away now. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped forward and immediately broke a branch in two with her foot. Jon’s head snapped up and he turned to see here there.

“I apologize, my prince.” she said, lowering her hood.

Jon was on his feet before her apology was fully out of her lips.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” He said, walking towards her.

When he held out his hand, she felt horrified when she flinched away. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat for a moment and she could not help but think of Joffrey and his violent way of handling her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to force the image out of her mind. When she opened them, Jon was looking at her with confusion and hesitation, his hand lowered to his side once more.

“I heard that you were ill.” He said, clearly wondering why she flinched away from him.

“I was,” Sansa nodded at him. “I am better now and thought that I might come thank the gods.”

Jon nodded, glancing back at the weirwood.

“Would you like to be alone?” he asked.

“No.” she said too quickly, shaking her head.

His head turned and he stared into her eyes once more. In the dim morning light, his eyes looked almost black.

“No, my prince. I would appreciate your company.” Sansa said, smiling at him.

A flicker of a smile went over his face and he cautiously held his elbow out for her. Sansa fought the automatic reaction this time, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm. He walked her to the tree and they both sat on the large boulders that stood before it. There was several minutes of silence between them as they stared up at the tree. Sansa’s hands curled into her skirts beneath the cloak and she took a deep breath, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

“I prayed for you.” Jon said quietly.

Her eyes lifted and she looked over at him with surprise.

“Thank you, my prince.” Sansa breathed.

He looked back at her with an indecipherable expression.

“Jon.” He corrected her.

“Jon.” She repeated.

They stared at each other for several moments, simply taking the other in as they sat before the tree of their gods.

“Would you tell me a story, Jon?” Sansa asked, the words slipping out of her mouth before she really knew what she wa saying.

He looked surprised at her request and she felt her cheeks burning as she ducked her head once more, wishing for her hair to be flowing freely so that she could hide behind the auburn curtain.

“What do you wish to hear?” Jon asked.

Her eyes lifted once more and she felt equally surprised that he agreed to it.

“Something happy.” Sansa said simply, folding her hands in her lap.

That was how they came to sit there until the sun was lighting up the sky as Jon regaled her with stories of his childhood with Aegon and Rhaenys. Sansa laughed until she cried, wiping the tears away as he told her of the situations that the three siblings found themselves in. When they heard the bustle of the castle in the distance, they exchanged similar looks as they knew that their time at the godswood had ended.

“Shall I escort you back, Sansa?” Jon asked, standing up as he held his hand out to her.

Sansa felt relief when she didn’t flinch away as she slid her hand into his. He helped her up, tucking his hand in her elbow as they walked through the trees together.

“Did Rhaenys tell you of the banquet tonight?” Jon asked.

“Yes. I admit that I am looking forward to the small gathering.” Sansa replied.

He nodded in agreement.

“I hope that it will be pleasant.” Jon said.

“I am certain that it will be. After all, we will all be friends there.” Sansa said.

He looked up at her as they walked out of the godswood and towards the holdfast, a frown creasing his forehead. Before she could ask what bothered him, a voice rang out behind them.

“Cat?”

They both turned to see a rather tall, stocky man with a red beard to match his thick head of hair and bright blue eyes that Sansa saw in the looking glass every day. He looked between them as if he’d seen a ghost, or two of them.

“No, my lord,” she said, stepping forward as she easily guessed who this must be. “I am Sansa. I am Catelyn’s daughter.”

He looked her up and down with wide eyes before a smile formed on his face, creasing his eyes and making him look very friendly.

“My niece, of course. You are the exact image of your mother.” Edmure Tully said.

Sansa felt a rush of warmth at his words as she sank into a curtsy, bowing her head.

“Uncle.” She said respectfully.

“None of that. We are family.” He said, pulling her into an embrace.

Sansa fought back a cry of pain as he bothered the wounds on her back. Edmure took no notice, placing two bristly kisses on her cheeks before pulling away again. Sansa turned to look at Jon who was watching them silently.

“Uncle Edmure, this is Prince Jon.” she said, gesturing to him.

Edmure swept into a bow.

“Your Grace,” He murmured before straightening up once more. “I apologize for the interruption. I urge you to proceed on your walk.”

“I would not dream of taking your niece from you, Lord Tully. Sansa, I shall see you tonight.” Jon said, bending over to kiss her hand.

She watched as he walked off, leaving her alone with the uncle that she did not know nor did she remember him.

“He looks like your father, and you so much like your mother.” Edmure muttered more to himself than to Sansa.

When she looked after Jon, she realized what her mother’s brother would have seen when he looked upon them, younger versions of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. The thought made her cheeks turn light pink. When she looked up at him, she felt a rush of happiness and other emotions at finally being within the presence of someone who was truly her family, even though she wished to see her mother and father or her siblings.

“Shall we break our fast together, Uncle?” Sansa asked politely.

“I would love nothing more, niece.” Edmure replied, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

She took his elbow and set off towards the small hall, eager to talk with her uncle.

\----------

“How was it?” Shae asked as she pulled Sansa’s hair back and twisted it into a complicated knot at the crown of her head.

It was to compliment her slender neck according to the other woman. A few tendrils were left hanging around her face to frame it.

“Strange. I imagine that he did not know how to react to me.” Sansa admitted, thinking of her time with her uncle.

She fought the tears that threatened to gather in her eyes.

“It would have been better if it had been my family. My close family.” She admitted quietly.

Shae put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You will see them again one day, Sansa.” she assured her.

Sansa shook her head, inhaling deeply to rid herself of the urge to cry.

“You do not know that.” she said, surprised that her voice was steady.

“I do. You deserve that much after all the misery that life has given you.” Shae said insistently.

Sansa almost broke down again at her words. Instead, she turned her head and looked at the sapphire blue silk dress that was laid out on the bed. A silver belt laid beside it as well as silver jewelry to match.

“Will I not look too extravagant?” she asked, not wanting to look like she was trying to hard.

“You will look beautiful,” Shae assured her. “Now let me clean your wounds once more and bind them before you dress.”

Once that was done, Sansa was standing in front of the looking glass as her handmaiden laced her into the dress. It fell down her body like a silk waterfall, clinging to her breasts and hips before flaring out at the waist. It brushed the ground and had a small train that would trail behind her.

“I told you.” Shae said triumphantly, clasping the necklace around her throat.

Sansa reached up and touched the pendent, relieved that it did not depict the sigil of any house. As always, her direwolf necklace was tucked into her dress in the valley of her breasts but no one knew of that.

“You will be the envy of every woman and the desire of every man.” Her handmaiden said confidently.

She smiled at her, dabbing rose oil on her wrists and neck as well as behind her ears.

“You have been so kind to me, Shae. I do not know how to thank you.” Sansa admitted, turning to her.

The other woman opened her mouth to speak but a knock sounded on her door before she could.

“You do not have to thank me, my lady. I am grateful to you for allowing me this position.” Shae murmured before going to the door to open it.

Sansa was surprised to see Jon standing there, looking handsome yet uncomfortable in fancier clothes than she’d ever seen him in. He wore the colors of his house that did not look nearly as natural on him as the black and grey that were normally his colors of choice. His eyes flickered over the room and widened slightly when he caught sight of Sansa. He did not even pay attention when Shae imitated a clumsy curtsy for him.

“Jon.” She said, approaching him.

He took her hand and she curtsied, bowing her head low.

“Sansa.” He replied in a soft voice, bowing over her hand and kissing it lightly.

Sansa fought back a contented sigh at the gentleness of his greeting.

“Would you do the pleasure of allowing me to escort you?” he asked.

“Of course.” She said too quickly.

He didn’t notice, smiling at her in the way that made his entire face light up. Sansa beamed back at him, unafraid to admit to herself that she rather liked his smiles. As they walked towards the ballroom, she glanced over at him, taking in his profile. When a slight blush formed on his cheek that she could see, Sansa knew that he was aware of her eyes on him.

“Will you participate in the tourney?” she asked, saying the first thing that came to her mind.

He looked back at her, nodding once.

“My brother and I both will participate as well as Viserys.” Jon answered.

Sansa nodded, hearing music as they approached the large room. A guard opened the door for them and Sansa’s eyes widened when they stepped inside. She hadn’t been to a large banquet before as the Lannisters did not invite her when one was held at Casterly Rock. It was beautiful. There were musicians playing in front of an open space where couples were dancing together. At the tables, people were laughing and conversing with each other as they ate and drank.

“I fear that we are late.” Sansa said, glancing around.

“No, Lady Sansa. The festivities simply started early.” Jon said, leading her around the tables to where Rhaenys and Aegon were sitting.

“Sansa!” The former declared happily, standing to greet her.

“Rhaenys.” She replied, kissing her cheeks.

When she sat down, she found herself between Rhaenys and Samwell Tarly, who must have been placed there on purpose to ease his clear nervousness.

“Sam.” Sansa said, smiling at him.

He looked at her as though he was surprised that she recognized him.

“My-my lady.” He stammered.

“Please, call me Sansa.” She said.

He nodded at her, looking relieved that she was speaking kindly to him.

“Have you had time to visit the library?” Sansa asked as they ate.

Sam’s entire face lit up and she knew that she broached the right subject.

“Yes, my lad… Sansa. It is wonderful. I have read many books since our arrival.” He answered.

“I am glad to hear it, Sam. Perhaps I may join you some day, if it would not be too bothersome.”

“Of course not.” He shook his head, looking horrified at the thought of her being bothersome to him.

Sansa shot him her sweetest smile as she drank from her wine.

“My lady.”

She looked over her shoulder to see a young man offering her a hand as he asked her dance. She did not know who he was and she wilted for a moment, unsure of whether she was permitted to dance. Then she realized that there was no one in the room who sought to control her and she slid her hand into his. They walked to the cleared space and Sansa felt relief that the Lannisters did permit her a septa to teach her the dances of the realm. She was light on her feet, forgetting about the pain and the sadness of her life as she twirled about the stone floor. Her partner was handsome enough but she could not help but wish that his brown hair were darker and that his green eyes were greyer. When the song ended, she was claimed by another young man, this one with brown eyes and blonde hair.

Sansa was laughing and feeling light as she danced, feeling more like herself than she had for the past ten years. When Loras Tyrell claimed her hand and danced with her three songs in a row, she could not bring herself to care about schemes and marriages. She did not need wine, for she was drunk off of her own happiness at being free to do what she wanted at least for that night. When she stepped away from the dances to satisfy her thirst, she felt someone step up beside her.

“I have not seen you this happy except for when we rode to the coast.” Rhaenys said.

“I don’t think that I’ve been this happy in ages.” Sansa said, nodding her thanks at the servant as she handed the goblet back to him.

The princess beamed at her, pleased that the banquet she arranged was such a success not only for everyone else, but for her new friend.

“Jon!” she said, reaching out to grab her brother’s sleeve as he slipped past them.

He turned, his eyes flickering over the both of them. When his eyes fell on Sansa, he did not look away. He almost looked transfixed by whatever he saw.

“Sansa is, tragically, without a dance partner. Won’t you remedy that?” Rhaenys asked.

They both turned to her with wide eyes but she was already backing away with a wide grin, winking at them before turning to walk off. Sansa turned back to Jon who was finding it hard to meet her eyes.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the dancers.

“I am afraid that I would not be a good partner, Sansa. You would be better served with my brother.”

She reached out, emboldened by her good mood as she took his hands.

“I don’t want your brother. I want you.” Sansa said, pulling him towards the dancers.

His eyes lifted and he looked shocked, unable to protest as he reacted to her words. Before he knew it, they were caught up in the dancers and Sansa was in his arms, twirling around the floor in a flourished southron dance.

“You should give yourself more credit, Jon,” Sansa said with a smile as they ducked through another couple’s arms and held their own up for the next couple. “You are not the worst man I’ve danced with tonight. If I may be bold, you are perhaps the best.”

He flushed at her compliment.

“Even better than Loras Tyrell? I noticed you danced with him three times in a row.” Jon said, ducking his eyes.

“Yes, even better than Loras Tyrell. I shall even dance with you four times in a row, if you wish.” Sansa said, her entire face lit up by the smile on her lips.

Jon looked up at her, unable to keep from smiling himself.

“We may dance as many times as you want, Sansa.” He said so quietly that he wasn’t sure that she heard him.

“Don’t say that, Jon,” Sansa warned, breathless with exertion from the dance. “You would be dancing all night if I had my way.”

He pulled her in close, their bodies pressing together as they waited on their turn to dance through the other couples.

“Then we shall dance all night.” Jon replied.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she looked up at him and realized all at once that this quiet, somber prince was turning out to be the only man she cared to notice in the room. She swallowed hard as she wondered what that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the beginning of the tourney.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the tourney begins, Sansa finds herself drawn even closer to Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I did not expect to have five readers for this fic, much less to make it to 50 comments and over 200 kudos by the sixth chapter. You are all absolutely amazing and I love you so very much.
> 
> I might have gone a little overboard with the Jon/Sansa stuff in this chapter but I was so filled with the love of them that I could not resist. So it's probably really cheesy and romantic but I don't even care because it even made me smile to write it.
> 
> Writing about jousts/tourneys is not my strong suit so excuse me if it's stilted and not good. I tried my best.

Sansa sat at her table, leaning forward as Shae brushed her hair gently. She was recalling the previous night with a fond look when Shae’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Can I ask a question?” her handmaiden said.

“You may.” Sansa replied, playing with a ribbon in her hand.

Shae placed the brush on the table and combed her hands through the silken locks.

“I have seen that you are close with the princess. If she is your friend, why do you not tell her what that boy does to you?”

Sansa looked up at her through the mirror, her blue eyes wide.

“What could she do?” she said quietly.

“Her father is the king and his son’s mother was your aunt. Surely he can punish the boy or send him to exile.”

Sansa let out a bitter laugh, ducking her head to hide her face.

“You put more value on the worth of my life than they do.” She said.

“Or perhaps you put less.” Shae said.

She turned her head, looking up at her with confusion creasing her forehead.

“I have see the way the princess looks at you, the princes too. It is as if you are a rare stone that they wish to protect from thieving hands. I would be surprised if they do not suspect that you are being harmed already.” Shae said.

The color drained from Sansa’s face at the words. They could not know, could they? Would they say something or keep it to themselves until they were certain? Rhaenys was a fairly blunt person so Sansa couldn’t imagine that she would not speak up about it if she had suspicions.

“You do not understand.” Sansa finally managed to say, standing up to walk to the window.

“Then explain it to me, my lady.” Shae said.

She shook her head, winding her hand into the curtain.

“I do not want to speak of it.” Sansa refused.

\----------

Sansa was escorted to the tourney grounds by her uncle, wearing a light pink gown with silver flowers embroidered on the skirt by her own hand. It was a wool dress and not nearly as extravagant as the dresses that Cersei provided for her. Sansa knew enough to know that it was made in the northern style. She left her hair down as well, pinning it up on either side to keep it out of her face. She climbed off of the horse with his help and looked around with wide eyes and a slight smile at the vivid colors around her.

“It is a shame, my lady.” A voice spoke from behind her.

Sansa turned, smiling when she caught sight of Aegon walking towards her. He was in black armor with hints of red, a helm tucked beneath his arm.

“What is a shame, my prince?” Sansa replied, smiling at him as she curtsied.

“With you around, no other lady has a hope of winning the crown of flowers.” Aegon replied, bending over to kiss her hand.

Sansa flushed at his compliment, ducking her head as he straightened up.

“You flatter me.” she said, her voice lacking the scolding tone that would have made her words more serious.

“I speak the truth, Lady Sansa.” Aegon corrected her.

A horn blew loudly and they all turned towards the fighting area.

“I believe that is my call, my lady. I would ask for your favor but I believe that belongs to someone else.” the prince said, shooting her a smile before turning to walk off.

Sansa stared after him with confusion, wondering what he could have meant by that as she touched the silver ribbon tied to her wrist.

“Sansa?” Edmure said, pulling her from her thoughts.

She slid her arm back into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her onwards. When they arrived at the area where the melee would take place, she saw Rhaenys eagerly speaking with Renly Baratheon in front of the chairs that were kept aside for the royal family and their guests. The princess caught sight of her, eagerly beckoning for them to come closer. When they reached her, she pulled Sansa away from her uncle and into her side.

“Have you met Sansa, Renly?” Rhaenys asked.

“I haven’t had the pleasure.” The youngest Baratheon said, bowing to her.

“My lord.” Sansa said, curtsying in response to him.

As they saw the tourney competitors gathering for the melee, Renly disappeared into the crowd and Rhaenys faced her.

“You shall sit next to me. I ensured that there would be room for your uncle to sit on your other side, if you like.”

Sansa felt a rush of gratitude towards the princess. She did not think that she could handle sitting with the Lannisters for the duration of the tourney.

“Thank you, Rhaenys.” she said, glancing back at her uncle.

He nodded at her before following them. Sansa and Edmure both bowed to the king and queen, giving them their respects before taking their seats. As soon as they did so, the horn blew once again and the gates were opened for the men to gather in preparation. The crowd was buzzing, each person eager to begin the tourney. Sansa saw Aegon amongst the men in armor but they were all wearing helmets so she did not see Jon or Viserys. As she glanced around the crowd, she caught sight of the Lannisters seated rather far away from them. Cersei and Joffrey were both glaring her way, most likely for different reasons. Sansa looked away, unwilling to let them ruin this day for her.

As Rhaegar stood, the crowd of nobles as well as the commons grew quiet, watching him and waiting. He spoke in a deep, resonating voice as he announced the start of his nameday tourney. After thanking his wife and sister for arranging everything, he gave permission for the melee to begin. The horn blew loudly and suddenly it began, the men clashing together as they fought with blunted tourney swords. Sansa did not know where to look at first, her heart thundering in her chest as men were thrown to the ground and yanked out of the fenced in area. When she caught sight of a man in dark armor, she stared at him.

His movements were graceful, almost as if he was doing a dance. He twirled and stepped around each man who sought to knock him out of the competition, almost effortlessly knocking them to their backs or stomachs. Sansa’s hands gripped her knees and she found herself holding her breath for several moments at a time as the competition diminished as the minutes went by. The crowd was roaring loudly around her, men shouting encouragements at the fighters that they wagered on. Eventually, the fight when from eight, to six, to five, and finally down to three. Two men, one of them Aegon, fought side-by-side against a quick opponent. He wasn’t quick enough for the partners and was eventually knocked out as well.

As soon as the man clambered out of the ring, the remaining competitors began circling each other. Sansa focused on the mystery man, chewing on her lower lip even as she hoped that he would beat the prince. Aegon was an experienced and graceful fighter but he was nothing compared to his remaining rival. Finally, their swords clashed and the crowd grew silent as they waited to see who would win. When the man feinted to the left, Aegon lunged towards him and he twirled to the right, striking his sword into the prince’s back and sending him to his knees. The man flipped him to his back, pressing the tip of his sword to his throat.

Aegon made the sign of mercy as the crowd roared their approval. Sansa stood, clapping along with everyone else as the winner straightened up and held his hand out to Aegon. The prince took it, allowing himself to be pulled up before yanking his helmet off to reveal his silvery hair. He was grinning and saying something as the other man tossed his sword down and reached up to remove his own helm. Sansa almost gasped when she saw Jon’s dark curls and fair skin. He had an easy smile on his face as he hugged his brother, thumping his mailed fist against the back of Aegon’s armor as the older prince did the same. Rhaenys leaned into her, recognizing the awed look on her face.

“Jon spends more time in the yard than Aegon. He takes his swordplay very seriously.” The princess said.

“He was wonderful.” Sansa breathed, unable to get the image of his graceful movements out of her head.

When she caught sight of Rhaenys’s knowing grin, Sansa flushed and looked away again. She stared at Jon as Aegon raised his hand in the air proudly, proclaiming his younger brother champion. The common people stamped, cheered, and whistled, clearly pleased by their prince’s win. Jon’s eyes flickered over the crowds, his cheeks flushed from exertion and his grey eyes bright with the shine of victory. When his gaze fell on her, her breath caught in her throat when he held the contact. Jon nodded at her, a smile pulling at his lips. Sansa clapped loudly as she beamed back at him, wondering if this was how her Aunt Lyanna felt when she watched Rhaegar best the other men in the tourney at Harrenhal.

\----------

After the first day of jousting concluded, Sansa traveled back to the castle with her uncle as Rhaenys was expected to leave with her family. They walked into the Keep together, listening as the people around them discussed the events of the day.

“All in all, a rather successful first day of the tourney.” Edmure commented as they walked inside.

“I thought it was quite amazing, though I have no other tourney to compare it to.” Sansa said.

She caught sight of a flicker of sadness go through her uncle’s eyes before it disappeared.

“I hope that tomorrow will not disappoint.” He said.

“I do not see how it could.” Sansa replied.

The next day would be the final day of the tourney. Jon and Aegon only tilted twice each on that day, both besting their opponents. They would advance with the rest when the competition proceeded the next day. Sansa hardly thought that she could sleep, wanting so desperately to see more. When they arrived at the holdfast, she glanced at the godswood longingly.

“Uncle Edmure, would you think it too much of a burden to escort me to the Heart Tree?” Sansa asked, looking at her uncle.

“Of course not, niece. I would be glad to.” He said.

She was grateful to him. How could she not be? He was the first family she’d seen in years and he was so kind to her despite the fact that he didn’t know her. Sansa was certain that most of his affection for her came from the fact that she looked so much like his sister and her mother. But she was still happy that he was there for, if the royal family were not around, there would always be a friendly face. When they reached the weirwood, Sansa gave him a grateful look.

“Thank you, uncle. Your kindness is such a help to me.” she said.

He recognized the plea for solitude when he heard it and bowed low.

“I am in debt to you, my lady. I thought myself to be alone throughout these festivities and you have provided great company.” Edmure said before turning away.

Sansa watched him walk off before sitting on the large rock that she often occupied, brushing her hand over the white bark that was near to her. A long time passed in peace and silence before she heard a branch snap behind her. Sansa gasped, standing up and whirling around with a panicked expression. Her first thought was that Joffrey sought her out in the godswood and she was ready to plead with him that he not touch her here. Sansa would have begged on her knees if he did not touch her in this place where she felt safe. When her eyes caught sight of black curls instead of golden locks, she felt the tension in her chest release and she sighed, almost slumping against the weirwood behind her.

“I am sorry, Sansa. I did not mean to frighten you.” Jon said quietly as he stepped forward, looking wary of her reaction.

“You did nothing, Jon. I only thought you were someone else.” Sansa slipped, flushing with chagrin when he looked at her questioningly.

Rather than answer the question that he wanted to ask, she turned away from him to sit once more. Jon took his place next to her and that was when she realized that he was out of his armor and in a simple white tunic with a black leather jerkin and woolen breeches as well as black riding boots. He smelled of sweat, horses, and blood but Sansa did not mind, finding even more peace in his presence.

“You look…” Jon hesitated, looking over at her dress.

His eyes traveled from her feet to her face, where he stared into her eyes as she looked back at him.

“You look very beautiful today, Sansa.” He breathed.

She smiled at him, warmth flooding her body at his words.

“Would it be too forward of me to admit the same to you?” Sansa asked.

His face betrayed his confusion as he looked down at his simple clothing.

“I admit that I did not know that it was you in the melee when my eyes were drawn to you. You were so graceful, as though you were doing a dance that nature instilled in your body. No man, not even your brother, managed to wield a blade so naturally.”

Jon flushed with embarrassment and pleasure at her words, looking up into her eyes. They both stared for a long time, unwilling to tear their gaze away. A breeze ruffled through the godswood and Sansa shivered.

“Are you cold?” Jon questioned.

“No.” she replied immediately, not willing to admit that she shook because of the tenderness in his eyes that she did not know how to react to.

Even Jaime’s eyes never held the same look. He was all raw passion and jests. Where she could see passion in Jon’s eyes when he fought and when they danced the previous night, all she could see now was undisguised kindness. Part of her didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to be harmed in case he turned out to be as false as the people that she knew before him. But another part of her knew that it was not an act. It was simply how he was and that made her shake all the more, knowing that someone was so kind with her when he did not gain anything from it.

Jon reached out as a stray strand of hair blew into her eyes. Sansa looked up at him as he brushed it behind her ear, his fingertips trailing over her skin. He allowed his touch to hover, stroking down the lock of hair before he pulled his hand away. Sansa felt a stab of disappointment that confused her all the more.

“May I…” Jon cleared his throat, ducking his head before looking up at her through his thick black lashes. “May I have the honor of wearing your favor in the joust tomorrow?”

Sansa felt like she might burst with the feeling that rose in her chest. She wanted to tell him yes until her voice grew hoarse, she wanted to shout it to the sky so that everyone would know. Instead, her face broke out into a smile and she nodded quickly, hoping that she did not look too eager.

“There is nothing that I would love more, my prince.” Sansa breathed.

My Jon, she added in her head. The thought almost made her break down into tears and she did not know why. When a smile lit up his face and crinkled his eyes, Sansa swallowed away the emotions that threatened to break through and grinned wider, feeling as exhilarated by this as the prince. He stood abruptly, holding his hand out to her.

“Shall I escort you back?” Jon asked.

Sansa glanced up at him, reaching up slowly. She slid her hand into his, the rough calluses on his palm in contrast to her soft skin. It sent warm shivers throughout her entire body and she lifted herself onto his feet, unable to resist brushing her thumb over his hand before taking his elbow. Jon’s mouth fell open slightly and she saw his eyes widen at the feeling. They stared at each other for several moments before the spell was broken and they began the walk back to the castle. Even after he left her at her chambers, Sansa felt like she was walking on air. Once the door was closed, she let out a childlike giggle and twirled around her room, pulling Shae into a hug.

“The most wonderful thing has happened. We must find the perfect dress for tomorrow and I will tell you everything.” She said, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

\----------

This time when she reached the tourney grounds, Sansa arrived earlier and had a purpose in her walking. She glanced around at the tents, seeking out the Targaryen sigil that would hint at Jon’s location. When she saw the black tent with red trimming from far off, she did not hesitate as she hurried towards it. The three-headed dragon flew high over the tent, letting her know that she had the correct place. Sansa hesitated, unsure of what to do. The white-cloaked man outside of the tent looked over at her questioningly.

“Prince Jon?” she said in a small voice, hoping that she did not sound like the child that she felt like.

The man leaned over, pulling the tent flap aside and peering in.

“Your Grace, Lady Sansa Stark.”

There was a loud thump as something dropped and laughter before it cut off in a smack and an exclamation of pain. The tent flap was ripped aside to reveal Jon half-dressed in his armor with a flushed expression on his face. Sansa smiled shyly at him, her ribbon threaded through her fingers.

“Sansa.” Jon said, looking at her with wide eyes.

She wore a gown of brilliant gold silk with pearls sewn into the bodice. Her hair was down once more, only half of it pulled away from her face with a string of pearls weaved through it.

“Won’t you come in, Sansa?” Aegon called from behind her, interrupting their silent staring as he rubbed at his arm where his brother undoubtedly hit him.

Jon looked back at his brother with narrowed eyes before stepping out, wordlessly asking her to follow him. Sansa did so and he led her around the side of the tent to give them a semblance of privacy.

“You look…” Jon shook his head as if he could not come up with a word for how she looked.

“I hope that it is pleasing to you, my prince.” Sansa said, smiling at him.

His answering expression told her all that she needed to know. Sansa held up her hand, holding out the favor in an offering to him.

“I thought that you might prefer this to be more private rather than tying it to your lance in the jousting ring.” Sansa said as an excuse for seeking him out.

“I do… prefer it, I mean.” Jon replied.

He reached down, his skin brushing against hers as he took the ribbon from her palm. Sansa watched as he tied it to his breast, tucking it beneath his armor to remain safe.

“I am honored to have your favor so close to my heart, my lady.” Jon said, taking her hand in his.

She watched as he bent over and pressed a gentle kiss to her hand. As he straightened up, Jon started to pull his hand away but she held it tightly, keeping it in her grip. Sansa kept her eyes fixed on his as she lifted it to her mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“As am I, my prince.” she said, her breath washing over his hand.

Jon watched her with wide eyes that were storming with emotion. Sansa let his hand go unwillingly, giving him a curtsy and a smile before excusing herself. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away and could not help the fact that her smile widened. Before she could make it to the jousting ring where Rhaenys awaited her, a figure stepped into her path. Cersei looked down on her with a look as though she smelled something foul.

“And where have you been hiding, little dove?” she said.

Sansa looked up at her, recognizing the intimidating look that would normally have her cowering into herself. This time, however, her spirits were too high for the woman’s unkind look to make her falter.

“I have not been hiding. I have been enjoying these wonderful festivities with my friends. Now, if you will excuse me, the princess awaits me.”

She brushed past Cersei, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride in herself as she walked away with her head held high.

\----------

The joust was even better on the second day. The men trotted out on their best destriers with their finest armor fitted to their bodies. Sansa recognized a great many of the knights from the stories that she read and heard, knowing that they were the finest fighters in all of Westeros. There was only one great fighter missing and the thought made Sansa sad as she closed her eyes for a moment. Her father deserved to be there, as well as her mother and her siblings. Perhaps, with her newfound friendship with Rhaenys and closeness with Jon, she could request that she be allowed to visit her family. Would the king truly say no to her if she had his daughter by her side?

Sansa pushed the thoughts aside, knowing that she could think more on it later. For now, she was determined to enjoy herself. The competition was incredible, excitement buzzing in the air as men both fell and advanced. Renly Baratheon wound up beating Aegon but Jon rode out soon after. Sansa’s heart fluttered as she thought of her ribbon tied to his armor. He beat Renly effortlessly, knocking him off of his horse entirely. Sansa and Rhaenys cheered the loudest as they stood on their feet for the prince.

When Loras Tyrell trotted out with his horse covered in roses, he came right by the royal box. Sansa flushed as he handed her a red rose, bestowing a smile that would make any lady’s knees weak. Any lady but her. She simply thanked him and put the rose in her lap, watching as he lined up to joust against Ser Beric Dondarrion. When he won, she clapped politely, not nearly as thrilled by his victory over the older knight. Rhaenys frowned down at the flower in her lap and Sansa almost wished to throw it out into the ring to be trampled by the horses. To do such a thing would not be ladylike or she would have done it already.

When the lists grew smaller and smaller, it finally came down to Jon and Loras in the final round of jousting. Sansa held her breath, reaching over to clutch at Rhaenys’s hand. The princess squeezed her fingers tightly as they watched the two men line up, tilting their heads in respect before putting on their helmets and accepting their lances from their squires. The steward walked forward, holding a flag out between them. When he glanced at both of them to ensure that they were ready, he lifted it and scurried backwards, allowing them to advance on each other. Both of their lances shattered but neither man wavered from his horse, earning a cheer from the crowd. They would have to go again.

They lined up once more, receiving new lances as they waited for the signal. Sansa leaned forward on her seat, chewing on her lip nervously as Jon and Loras kicked their horses into action, spurring them on. Jon aimed at Loras, his lance pointed at his chest. Just before they met in the middle, the lance slipped from Loras’s grip slightly and he was not able to recover. The blow sent him flying off of his horse and he landed on his back. Sansa leapt up with the rest of the crowd, the red rose lying forgotten at her feet as she yelled and clapped for Jon’s victory. The prince leapt off of his horse, hurrying to Loras before his squire could get there. 

He held his hand out, pulling his helm off. Loras did the same, nodding up at him as he conceded defeat. He placed his hand in Jon’s allowing him to pull him up. Jon patted his back once before walking back to his horse to mount it once more. The crowd was roaring with the excitement over seeing their beloved prince win the tourney. Jon rode around, waving with a smile on his face before galloping over to the royal box where he would be presented with his winnings and the crown that would belong to the queen of love and beauty, whomever he chose. Rhaegar and Elia moved forward, standing at the front of the dais where they sat.

The king held a golden statue fashioned in the three-headed dragon sigil of his house and the queen held a cushion with the white roses that were weaved into a crown. The crowd hushed as Jon dismounted his horse once more, surrendering it to his squire. Rhaegar looked down at his son with a shadow of a smile on his face, the most pleasant look on it that Sansa had seen thus far. He was proud of his son. With his curls plastered to his head with sweat and bright eyes, Sansa did not think that she’d ever seen Jon looking so beautiful.

He accepted the reward, holding it up high as the crowd roared their approval. Once he handed it over to a servant, the queen held out the cushion. Jon bowed low to his stepmother before picking up the flower crown with gentle hands. He did not walk far, stopping just before Sansa and Rhaenys. She was certain that he would give the crown to his sister. When he held it out to her in an offering, her heart skipped a beat and she almost felt like crying in happiness. Sansa leaned forward over the fence separating them, lowering her head so that he could place the crown atop her hair.

She looked up at him, their faces inches apart. She gave him a wide smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. Jon looked at her with a dazed expression, flushed even more now as the raucous cheers of the crowd sounded around them. It was nothing like the tournament at Harrenhal. This time, even the nobles approved of their tournament champion and their queen of love and beauty.

\----------

Sansa did not wear the crown at the banquet that night out of fear that it would be ruined. She still felt like the happiest woman in all of King’s Landing, even Westeros, as she walked into the Great Hall with Jon escorting her. Every face in the room was smiling with the exception of Tywin, Cersei, and Joffrey, who looked as though they were in the foulest of moods. Sansa could not bring herself to care. She embraced the princess eagerly and favored Aegon with a kiss on the cheek. She even hugged Sam, who blushed so deeply that he was almost the same color as the wine in her hand. She did not get a chance to sit for a very long time, dancing with every man who asked, some of them twice.

When Aegon claimed her hand, the music was quick and he twirled her around the floor as she laughed. He was a graceful dancer though she did not enjoy his embrace nearly as much as his brother’s. Aegon seemed to know that but he did not care, treating as though she was his sister.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” he said as they danced.

“Who?” Sansa asked innocently, aware that her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and the wine that she drank.

He gave her a look as he knew that she knew who he meant.

“My brother. He’s never been open with his feelings, no matter who they are towards. Even Rhaenys and I have a hard time dragging out his admission of love for us and we’re his siblings.” Aegon said.

“I’ve never been like this either.” Sansa admitted after several moments.

He pulled her in close as the song ended and everyone else clapped for the musicians.

“Then why are you dancing with me?” Aegon asked with a wry smile.

Sansa grinned back at him, allowing him to escort her from the floor and straight to Jon. He was speaking to Thoros of Myr but as soon as they approached, the man with the famed flaming sword might as well have been invisible by the way his attention turned fully to her.

“She’s all yours, brother.” Aegon said with a grin, leaving them alone.

Jon’s cheeks flamed at his brother’s words but Sansa could not bring herself to care.

“Do you wish to dance?” he asked.

Sansa took his offered hand, grinning at him.

“You never have to ask such a question, my prince. The answer will always be the same.” she said.

Jon looked amazed at her words, leading her to dance amongst the other couples.

\----------

When he escorted her back to her chambers, the moon was high in the sky and Sansa was slightly tipsy from the wine she drank. She stood too close to him and held on too tight but she could not bring herself to care. Not when she had the most amazing day. Jon indulged in his cups more than usual as well so she did not feel alone.

“Have you ever won a tourney before?” Sansa asked as they ascended the stairs.

“I have not. I do not know that I was ever fully motivated to win such an event.” Jon admitted.

She looked over at him.

“What motivated you to win this one?” Sansa questioned, hoping that the answer would please her.

He looked back at her as they reached the passage that led to her chambers as well as Rhaenys’s rooms.

“The most beautiful woman in all of Westeros was watching me and her favor was tied to my armor. I could not fail her.” Jon said honestly.

Sansa almost melted into his arms at his words as she favored him with a wide smile. As they approached her room, she felt a curious throbbing in her head and frowned, pulling her hands away from him. Jon watched as she pulled the string of pearls out of her hair as well as the pins that were holding it up. She felt relief when her locks were unbound, falling down her back to her waist freely.

“That is better.” She sighed.

She missed the look of admiration on Jon’s eyes as she turned to open her door. Sansa turned back to face him as she pushed it open. As he looked down at her in the dim light of the hallway, she had the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek. She was following through on that urge before she knew it, placing her palm against the rough stubble of his jaw. Jon’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment before popping open again. There was a frown on his face that confused her. He reached up, taking her hand and lowering it. Sansa watched with wide eyes as he pushed her loose sleeve up. She did not realize that it had fallen lower when she reached up. An icy chill gripped her heart as he looked upon the dark bruises that spotted her pale skin. When Jon looked up at her, his eyes were blazing with anger that she’d never seen before. She might have imagined the vivid purple color that flashed in them but with his family, there was every chance that it was real.

“Sansa, who did this to you?” he asked in a low voice, clenching his jaw.

Sansa did not know how to react, her heart racing and her head whirling. So it was no fault of hers when she promptly burst into tears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries her best to deal with her secret being revealed and discovers a few truths in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all fantastic.
> 
> It would not be out of the question for another update to appear in the next few hours. I'm just getting to the part that I was really excited to write. I do apologize if I'm moving too fast with Jon and Sansa's relationship. I'm just so excited to write stuff with them.

Shae’s voice filtered through the door as she pleaded for Sansa to come out. Before Jon could get another word out of her, Sansa had run into her solar and locked it behind her, barring anyone’s entrance. She was huddled in a chair, her knees pulled to her chest in spite of the way that it was surely wrinkling her dress. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she stared out of the open balcony doors at the night sky. Her entire body was shaking. She couldn’t be certain if it was because of her fear or devastation. The one thing that she hadn’t wanted to happen did so without her permission. She felt like screaming and tearing her hair out but she just sat there feeling almost numb, her chin resting on her knees.

“Sansa.” A new voice sounded through the door, as soft as the petals of the flower crown that rested on her bed.

She whimpered as she recognized that it was Rhaenys. The princess didn’t have to say another word. Sansa was on her feet and moving towards the door as quickly as she could go. She unlocked it and immediately threw herself into her friend’s arms without a second thought. Rhaenys embraced her gently, stroking her hair. Sansa didn’t realize that the choking noises that she heard were coming from her own mouth. Her sobs made her entire body heave as she slumped to her knees on the ground. Rhaenys followed her, allowing Sansa to bury her face in her shoulder as she cried.

When she finally forced herself to stop crying, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes, hating herself for her emotional release in front of the princess. When her eyes lifted and she saw Jon hovering by the door to her bedchamber with a pained look on his face, Sansa almost broke down once more. She looked away from him, shame filling her for many reasons.

“Will you please talk to me?” Rhaenys asked, looking at Sansa with such concern that almost overwhelmed her.

She nodded slowly, allowing the princess to pull her up to her feet. Rhaenys looked back at Jon, giving him a sympathetic look.

“Brother, I think that you should give Sansa privacy when she speaks.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but his sister gave him a warning look and he nodded, backing out of the doorway. Sansa was torn between relief that he was leaving and wanting to call him back as he disappeared down the hallway. Shae closed the door, locking it as Rhaenys pulled Sansa to the bed and encouraged her to sit. She held both of her hands, looking into her eyes.

“I will not rush you, Sansa. You may talk to me when you wish.” She encouraged her.

She clenched her hands in the sheets and bowed her head, steeling herself.

“Shae.” Sansa said in a hoarse voice.

The handmaiden walked to her side and she turned, pulling her hair over her shoulder. Shae understood, wordlessly unlacing her dress. When it was loosened enough, Sansa pushed herself off of the bed and let it fall to the ground. She turned to show Rhaenys her back, pulling her shift over her head and clutching it to her chest. The princess gasped, horrified at the sight of the dark bruises and the healing cuts.

“Oh Sansa.” She whispered, shaking her head.

She trembled as she pulled the shift back on and Shae handed her a dressing gown. Sansa tied it and turned to sit on the bed once more. Rhaenys reached out to take her hands and when she looked up, she saw that tears were gathering in the other woman’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she questioned.

Sansa felt tears burning in her eyes again.

“You couldn’t understand.” She said quietly.

“I can try,” Rhaenys said pleadingly. “Please, Sansa. I want to help you.”

Her lip trembled and she shook her head.

“My father is the king. No matter what happens, you are protected. Whoever did this to you will be met with the full force of the king’s justice, I promise.”

Sansa looked up at her with wide blue eyes.

“It’s not about protection. It’s about what will happen if everyone finds out.” she said.

“What will happen?” Rhaenys asked.

She took a deep breath.

“My only hope for escape from the Lannisters is marriage. If it comes out that this has been happening, no man will want me. It’s bad enough that everyone sees me as a traitor’s daughter. If I’m damaged by another man, I will never find marriage.”

Rhaenys looked at her with a sad look.

“You do not have to worry about that, Sansa.” She murmured, squeezing her hands.

“You don’t understand. You are a princess. No one would ever doubt you or turn down an offer of marriage. It is more of a burden to marry me than an advantage.” Sansa said, her tears brimming over once more.

The princess shook her head.

“You must be as blind as him.” she said, looking slightly amused.

Sansa looked at her with confusion.

“Who?” she questioned, wiping at her eyes furiously.

Rhaenys leaned forward closer to her.

“For years, maidens from noble families have come through King’s Landing with their eyes on both of my brothers. Aegon relishes in the attention but Jon doesn’t pay them any mind. He always remains quiet unless they speak to him. Margaery Tyrell has had her eyes on him for ages.”

Sansa felt herself growing worse as the princess spoke. Her upset must have shown on her face because Rhaenys reached up, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” she said softly.

Rhaenys looked alarmed when she broke down into heartwrenching sobs once more.

“And now he won’t even look at me again.” Sansa cried, burying her head in her hands.

The princess embraced her, careful of her wounds as she did so.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Rhaenys said softly.

“You didn’t see the disgust in his eyes when he saw the bruises.” Sansa whispered.

Rhaenys sighed, knowing that she could not be right about her brother. She remained in the room long after Shae was dismissed. They lay on the bed as she comforted Sansa, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances. When her eyes fluttered closed, Rhaenys shifted on the bed.

“Please don’t go.” Sansa whispered, clutching at her hand.

The princess settled back on top of the blankets, holding her hand until Sansa fell into a troubled sleep.

\----------

Sansa dreamed the same dream as always, running through a field with someone by her side. She could hear growls behind her and the beating of wings above her. Ahead was a field of thorny roses and past them, she could barely make out the blurred forms of people waiting on them. It took a while for her to realize what was different. Her hand was clutched in a person’s warm grip. Sansa looked over only to be met with warm grey eyes and wild black curls. Jon squeezed her hand reassuringly and encouraged her to keep running.

When Sansa awoke, she sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, wincing at the feeling of soreness from crying for so long. She looked to her right and saw that her bed was empty. Rhaenys must have left sometime while she was sleeping. Shae was moving about the room, preparing everything for the day as Sansa slipped out of the blankets.

“Do you wish for me to draw you a bath, my lady?” Shae asked, looking over at her.

She could hear the sympathy in her voice and see the pitying glint in her eyes.

“No.” Sansa said hoarsely, walking to the hidden door.

“Lady Sansa…” Shae began to say.

She didn’t let her finish, closing the door behind her. Sansa was intent on remaining in her room for as long as possible. After curling on the chair her head resting on her hand, she just sat the watching the boats and clouds move over the water. She wished that she could get on one and sail to White Harbor. She had enough jewels from Cersei to pay her way. From there, she would buy a horse and ride for Winterfell. It wouldn’t be hard, taking the Kingsroad all the way to the gates of the place that should have been her home. Her family would welcome her with open arms, she hoped. But even then, doubts began picking at her mind.

Rhaenys only said that the Starks weren’t coming. She didn’t say that they weren’t invited. What if they were given an invitation and they decided not to come to the celebrations? After all, they didn’t even know Sansa. Even if they knew she would be there, why would they go out of their way and leave their home to see a daughter and sister that they wouldn’t even recognize if it weren’t for her Tully looks. If that were true she would be better off there as long as the royal siblings did not speak of what they saw.

Hours might have passed before a knock came on the solar door. Shae entered when there was no response and Sansa realized that she forgot to lock it.

“A message came, my lady. Loras Tyrell has invited you for a walk through the garden. He wishes to speak to you.” she said.

Sansa didn’t answer right away, looking over at her with confusion. At first, the urge to decline was on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. The memory of the anger and disgust in Jon’s eyes flashed through her mind and she shook her head, taking a deep breath.

“I will meet him in the Queen’s Ballroom.” Sansa sighed, pushing herself to stand.

“My lady?” Shae said with surprise, obviously thinking that she would say no.

“Tell the messenger.” Sansa instructed.

As soon as the steward was sent with the message back to Ser Loras, Sansa quickly washed up and put on a light blue dress, braiding her hair over her shoulder. She placed the golden rose around her neck, knowing what she had to do now. She dabbed lavender oil over her skin and pinched her cheeks until they were flushed rather than pale. Shae watched her with a hesitant look as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

“Speak your mind.” Sansa invited as she pulled golden bracelets onto her wrists.

“I do not think you should do this, my lady.” Shae said simply.

“Why not?” she said, staring at her with dull eyes.

The handmaiden sighed, stepping towards her.

“Because he doesn’t make you happy.” Shae said.

Sansa’s heart throbbed painfully as she realized that it was the truth. Loras might never truly make her happy but what choice did she have? She was not worthy of Jon, not by any means. It might break her heart, but she had to do what was necessary to ensure that she never had to be around Joffrey or his mother again.

“He’ll make me safe.” she sighed, standing to walk to the door.

When she caught sight of Loras waiting for her, he looked completely wrong. His hair was too light and his skin too tan. His eyes were the wrong color. He was more beautiful than rugged and his clothing was as bright as hers. He sank into a bow when he saw her and she responded with a curtsy.

“Ser Loras.” Sansa murmured, unable to put a false sense of cheeriness in her voice like she knew that she should have.

“Shall we, Lady Sansa?” he asked, sounding just as distracted.

She took his arm and walked out with him, going straight to the gardens. As they walked, they both searched for something to say, something to fill the silence.

“How did you enjoy the tourney, Lady Sansa?” Loras asked.

“It was very well fought, ser. You did wonderfully.” Sansa complimented, hoping that it was what he wanted to hear.

“Not as good as Prince Jon. I noticed that you cheered rather loudly for him.” The knight said.

Sansa frowned over at him, wondering why he was walking with her if his pride was wounded by her support for Jon.

“I have grown very close with Jon and his siblings since my arrival in King’s Landing.” she said simply, not willing to offer up any further explanation.

Loras did not ask for one, turning to glance away from her. When she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Renly Baratheon hovering nearby with a man that she did not recognize but knew to be his stern brother, Stannis Baratheon. They looked as though they were in a heated discussion. When the men noticed them passing, Sansa did not miss the look that Renly sent Loras. Her eyes flickered to the man walking with her and she saw him sending a similarly heated look back. Sansa turned her head before she could see any more, flushing as she tried to pretend that she hadn’t seen anything even though she wasn’t certain of what she saw in the first place. Once they were far away from the Baratheon brothers, Loras led her through the roses.

“Would you agree to dine with me in the small hall? I would appreciate your company.” Loras said, his voice stilted and uncomfortable.

Sansa looked over at him, shooting him what she hoped was a warmer smile than she had managed so far. From the disappointment in his eyes, she guessed that it came out as more of a grimace.

“I would be honored, ser.” Sansa said, looking down at her feet.

They took the short way around the gardens, both eager to end this uncomfortable walk as soon as possible. When they entered the courtyard and made for the small hall, Sansa heard the sound of clashing steel. Her head turned automatically and she stopped short, her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Jon amongst several lesser nobles. They were all trying to fight him despite the fact that he’d proved that he was the greatest fighter amongst them in the tourney. His body twisted and twirled, dodging the swords of the other men as he took them down one by one until they yelled for mercy. She heard Loras’s voice distantly trying to urge her forward.

Jon turned away from the men, breathing heavily as his eyes lifted. They met with hers and he froze as well, his grip going limp on the tourney sword that he was using. Sansa couldn’t hear anything past her heart beat pulsing in her ears. She was aware that she was gripping the knight’s arm too tightly. Jon’s eyes flickered over her figure, catching sight of the man next to her and narrowing slightly. He turned away quickly, leaving the yard as he stomped towards the stables. Sansa looked away as well, allowing Loras to escort her the rest of the way. When they entered the small hall, her heart dropped and she stopped suddenly, her hand falling away from Loras. They weren’t alone. The Lannisters were waiting with the Tyrells but luckily, Joffrey was not there. Cersei gave her a once over and deemed her appropriate, turning to continued talking to Mace Tyrell and her father.

“I thought we were dining alone.” Sansa said, looking at him with alarm.

“It is just our families.” Loras said simply, gesturing at them.

Sansa felt like she might be sick. She reached up, clutching at the rose necklace around her throat. Suddenly, everything was sinking in. Joanna gave her the rose necklace, clearly pushed into it by either Cersei or Tywin. She happened to join Rhaenys on the day that the Tyrells arrived. Loras greeted her personally, already attempting to charm her. At the tourney, he went out of his way to give her a rose in front of everyone, clearly declaring something that she did not see. Rhaenys was upset at the fact that she received the flower. Sansa took a step back, suddenly feeling as stupid as Cersei always accused her of being.

“Sansa!” a voice rang out.

She looked up to see Tommen hurrying towards her, a grin on his face. He threw his arms around her waist and held on tightly.

“Mother tells me that you will be married but it’s not to Joffrey like he always said it would be. Who are you marrying?” the young boy asked, looking up at her innocently.

Sansa stared up at Cersei, who was giving her a level gaze. Her eyes flickered to Tywin, who looked almost impatient as he waited for her to figure it out. Then she glanced at the Tyrells. Olenna was giving her a curious look as Margaery grinned openly at her as if accepting a new family member into the fold. Her eyes closed for a moment and Sansa saw herself walking to Loras in the sept, Tywin handing her over as if he was fulfilling a transaction. Her grey and white maiden’s cloak would be thrown to the floor as soon as it was taken from her shoulders, replaced with a green and gold cloak that would chain her to the Tyrells forever.

She would not be out of the reach of the Lannisters. The Tyrells were working with the lions. But to what end, she did not know. Her eyes opened and she gripped the necklace around her neck tighter, not even wincing as the gold chain dug into her skin. When she ripped it off, a gasp came from Margaery and Cersei and Tywin both narrowed their eyes at her.

“This is not my family,” Sansa hissed, tears springing to her eyes. “It will never be my family.”

She threw the rose pendent to the ground, doing exactly what she envisioned at the tourney the previous day with the knight’s red rose. Loras stared down at it with shock as Sansa did the same, almost unable to believe that she did that. A hysterical laugh bubbled up and escaped from her mouth, quickly turning into a sob. She looked up at Cersei and Tywin with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“You have taken everything from me, my family, my life, my choices… this is one thing I will not let you take from me. I will not marry whom you choose for me and I will never marry Joffrey. I will no longer be a part of your schemes and if you have trouble accepting that, you may take it up with the king.” Sansa said, her voice breaking several times despite the strength that she tried to convey.

She whirled around, ripping off the bracelets that she knew were made from Lannister gold. Sansa let them fall to the ground with a clatter, hurrying out of the small hall. She did not hesitate despite the calls she heard from behind her. Sansa picked up her skirts and held them around her ankles as she broke into a run, desperate to get as far away from the Lannisters and the Tyrells as she could. When she heard the thundering of hooves and a shout, she staggered out of the way and looked up with fear as the horse stamped away from her.

“Sansa?” Jon said, looking down on her from where he was mounted on his horse.

She turned her head, catching sight of the Lannisters and Tyrells filing out of the small hall. Mace was shouting at the top of his lungs about disgrace and how they ought to control their ward. Tommen was staring at her with a scared expression as Cersei yanked him out, glaring her down. When Tywin started towards her, Sansa looked up at the prince pleadingly. He didn’t even have to hear the words that were on the tip of her tongue. Jon’s eyes flickered between her and the group behind her before he reached down. Sansa flinched away before realizing that he was holding his hand out to her. He looked at her sadly, realizing exactly why she did so. She took a deep breath and carefully slid her own hand into his. 

With a gasp, she helped him to pull her up onto the horse with a great strength that his lean body and the clothing covering it managed to hide. The Lannisters and Tyrells stopped short, all of them looking shocked at the sight of her on the back of Prince Jon’s horse. Sansa hesitated before tentatively wrapping her arms around his waist. Jon nodded once before he took off. The guards at the gates scrambled to open them, knowing that the horse would not stop. Behind them, they heard the Kingsguard shouting after Jon, who should not be going anywhere without them. He didn’t stop. He didn’t care.

The smallfolk dove out of the way as the horse tore through the streets towards the King’s Gate. Sansa buried her face in his leather jerkin, holding onto him tightly. As soon as they were out of King’s Landing, she saw the Kingswood ahead of them. The horse galloped down the path and she watched as the green and brown of the trees blurred by. She felt the ribbon on her braid loosen and reached up, yanking on it to free her hair. The ribbon fluttered to the ground and was forgotten as her red locks streamed behind them. Sansa knew that they would be tangled but she relished in the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair.

After traveling for a while, Jon slowed the horse down, veering off into a clearing. He finally came to a stop in the middle, clutching to the reigns as tightly as she was holding onto him. They both remained silent for a long time, breathing heavily in the wake of their short journey.

“Why were you with Loras Tyrell?” Jon asked in a low voice.

Sansa closed her eyes, wishing that he asked any other question. She would have talked about the bruises before she explained why she’d agreed to go along with the knight.

“He was supposed to keep me safe.” Sansa admitted, shame filling her as she admitted how foolish she’d been.

Jon looked over his shoulder at her and she glanced up at him, meeting his grey eyes. They were filled with worry and just a tiny bit of hurt.

“You don’t need that boy to keep you safe.” He said, the words holding more venom that she thought Jon capable of producing.

Sansa was very aware of the fact that their faces were so close that she could see violet flecks in his grey eyes and a small scar on his forehead as well as one on his chin. She longed to reach up and trace his features gently but knew that this wasn’t the time.

“Then who will?” she whispered.

The question was ridiculous and they both knew it, considering what Jon had just done for her. She knew that he would likely find trouble for leaving without a guard but he did it without hesitation. Jon leaned in just a bit closer, his warm breath washing over her lips and making her shiver. Sansa stared into his eyes, her heartbeat speeding up as his lips came very close to brushing over hers. Then he was gone, sliding off of the horse and causing her hands to fall away. Sansa looked down on him with a wide-eyed expression as he ran a hand through his curls and turned away, walking to a tree to brace his hand against it.

“Jon?” Sansa said, feeling foolish being up on the horse with him down on the ground. 

She threw her leg over the side, inhaling sharply before sliding off. Her feet hit the ground hard and she staggered, almost falling to her knees before she righted herself. Jon turned around with a panicked expression until he saw that she was all right.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping towards him.

Sansa was afraid of the answer and when he spoke it, his words simply confirmed her fears.

“I can’t stop thinking about your bruises.” Jon admitted.

She recoiled, stepping away from him with tears gathering in her eyes. Sansa was so tired of crying but it truly seemed as though she could not stop.

“I’m sorry.” she said quietly, trying to hold back the urge to cry.

Jon looked confused for a moment, his brow creasing.

“For what?” he said.

Sansa let out a small whimper, clutching her arms around her.

“I couldn’t stop him. I could never stop him. I just let him do this and now I’m damaged. I knew that no one would want me. I knew that what he did to me would never go away and that it would haunt me. Now I’m completely undesirable and I will be forced to marry him.” she cried, trying and failing to hold back her emotions.

Jon walked to her in several long strides, taking her cheeks in his hands.

“You are not damaged,” He said forcefully, staring into her eyes. “You are not to blame for this. Whatever man did this to you will be punished. I will see to it. I will ensure that he received the full force of the king’s justice for his actions. You are not undesirable. You could never be undesirable.”

Sansa trembled in his arms, her hands coming up to wrap around his wrists.

“You don’t even know all that he’s done to me. He could have dishonored me or…” she sobbed.

“I don’t care.” Jon replied simply.

She stared at him, torn between astonishment and fear that he didn’t truly mean it.

“Jon.” she said, reaching up to clutch at his shoulders.

He brushed away her tears and she almost slumped at the gentle nature of his touch. Jon caught her, pulling her into his chest as he stroked her hair. Sansa tucked her face into his shoulder and felt him press a kiss to the top of her head several times. When she pulled away, she looked up at him with wet cheeks and pleading eyes. Sansa didn’t even know what she wanted from him but he seemed to sense it right away. Jon leaned down, pressing their lips together softly. She barely felt the pressure of his mouth on hers, wondering if she was only dreaming. Everything else felt real, the feel of his leather jerkin beneath her hands and the hardness of his body against her softer one. At this realization, she let out a sob against his mouth, shaking even more violently. Jon pulled away, looking down at her with a devastated expression.

“Sansa,” he murmured, wiping her tears away and brushing her hair out of her face. “Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

She shook her head, knowing that he would think her ridiculous. In truth, the kiss was everything that Joffrey’s weren’t. There was no biting pain or blood involved. It didn’t hold dangerous threats but rather lovely promises. There was a pleasant warmth spreading through her body and the overwhelming urge to do it again.

“You are being so gentle and kind.” Sansa said, sliding her hands up his shoulders to his face to cradle it in her hands.

“And that’s bad?” Jon asked, slightly confused.

She shook her head quickly, marveling at how perfect her hands felt on him.

“It’s wonderful.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, his lips were pressing against hers again. Sansa pushed herself onto her toes, sliding her hands into his hair like she’d wanted to do for what felt like ages. His slid up her arms, pulling the sleeves down to reveal her bruises. Sansa pulled away from him, wanting to yank her arms back to cover them. Jon didn’t allow it, turning his head. At the first press of his mouth to a bruise, Sansa let out a soft whimper. His eyes stared into hers as he did so, kissing each and every bruise that he could find. She watched him with a quivering lip, wondering how this had happened. How did she manage to become so close with this man in a matter of weeks? As if he could hear her thoughts, Jon switched to her other arm, kissing each mark that marred her pale skin before pulling away. He smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead. Sansa closed his eyes as she placed her hands against his hard chest, relishing in the sweetness of their embrace.

“Please tell me who did this to you.” Jon whispered.

She squeezed her eyes tighter.

“I can’t.”

He pulled away, looking down at her with confusion.

“Why?” Jon asked, not understanding at all.

“Because you’ll hurt him and he’ll hurt you in return. I cannot stand to see you hurt for me, Jon,” Sansa said, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “My Jon, I cannot bear to see you harmed.”

He closed his eyes at her touch, allowing her to explore his face as she wished to do. When her fingers trailed over his soft, warm lips, they separated slightly. Sansa pulled his face down to hers, unable to resist kissing him again. As she pushed herself into his arms, they slid around her back and she immediately tensed. Jon did the same, starting to pull away. Sansa stopped him, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“Don’t.” she said quickly, a pleading tone in his voice.

She waited, inhaling his smell that was a combination of leather, mint, and soap. Sansa slid her hands into his hair, tilting her head up to look at him.

“You won’t hurt me. I know that.” Sansa said.

Jon looked at her with such emotion that she felt her legs shaking beneath her as she threatened to collapse against him again.

“I will never hurt you.” Jon vowed solemnly.

Sansa took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned up to him again. Before their lips could touch, they heard the thundering of hooves and they broke apart, looking around to see several members of the Kingsguard galloping towards them. Ser Barristan was among them, looking at them with a resigned stare.

“Your father requests that you come back.” he said.

Both of them knew enough to know that it was no request. They were commanded by their king. Jon helped Sansa up onto the horse first, climbing on behind her this time. He gripped the reigns with his arms around her waist and she pressed her back into his chest. The Kingsguard surrounded them as they made their way back to the city. As they rode through the streets, the common people looked at them with wide eyes, wondering who the girl was on the horse with their prince. Sansa turned her face into his neck, not wanting to meet the hundreds of questioning stares. When they rode into the Red Keep, the Kingsguard dismounted around them and waited to escort them to the Great Hall.

Jon dropped the reigns and slid off of the horse, helping her down and tucking her arm into his elbow. They walked towards the throne room silently. He could feel Sansa’s shaking and he lifted his other hand, smoothing a thumb over her knuckles. When they reached the steps, Jon stopped and turned her towards him.

“It will be all right.” he promised her.

Sansa nodded, taking a shaking breath as she clutched at him.

“Please, do not let them take me back.” she whispered.

His eyes darkened slightly at the thought of it.

“That will never happen.” Jon said in a low voice.

Sansa felt reassured by him and knew that with him by her side, she had the strength to face whatever was inside. Before she could move away from him, he pulled her in and captured her in another deep kiss.

“Ready?” Jon asked.

“Ready.” Sansa sighed.

As they turned to enter the throne room, she moved to place her hand in the crook of his arm once more. Jon stopped her, sliding his hand down to hers. Their fingers entwined and he squeezed it comfortingly, nodding at the guards to open the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've thought about it for a while and I've decided that next chapter will have Jon's POV in it and maybe someone else's too. Also, for those who have been wishing for Sansa's 'wolf' to come out, you will not be disappointed in the next chapter either.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa confronts her fears as well as the Lannisters, finally able to stand up to them with the royal family on her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this chapter isn't a disappointment. Reading it back over, I'm afraid that it might be anti-climactic.
> 
> In case the last scene of this chapter doesn't clue you in, this fic is far from over. I have a lot of plans and trials ahead for Jon and Sansa. It will not all be easy for the two but I promise that they will be together.
> 
> This chapter does switch POVs every so often. I was nervous writing in other people's perspective so I hope that I didn't mess it up with it.

**Sansa**

When they entered the Great Hall, Sansa got her first sight of King Rhaegar sitting on the Iron Throne. He looked every inch a king, solemn and serious with the heavy weight of a dark crown on his head. Sansa’s eyes darted across the other people in the room. The queen was seated beside him and Aegon and Rhaenys were standing at the foot of the stairs, both of them watching Sansa and Jon approach with wide eyes as they saw their entwined hands. Daenerys and Viserys were off to the side of the dais, watching with neutral expressions. Standing off to each side were the Lannisters on the left and the Tyrells on the right. She swallowed hard, knowing that without Jon’s presence at her side, she might be unable to face this.

“Your Grace.” She said, sinking into a curtsy.

“Father.” Jon said, bowing at the same time.

When they straightened up, they both looked at Rhaegar expectantly.

“Have you lost all sense?” the king questioned, looking straight at his son.

Jon didn’t answer right away, glancing at the ground.

“No Father, I have not.” He replied, looking up at him.

“What possessed you to ride off without the Kingsguard? Our kingdom is at peace for the moment but there are still those that may wish you harm.” Rhaegar said.

Sansa could not bear to see Jon admonished by his father when he did nothing wrong.

“It was no fault of his, Your Grace.” She spoke up, her heart pounding in her chest as she stepped forward.

Jon squeezed her hand but she didn’t pay him any heed, refusing to break her gaze away from the king.

“He was helping me. I was distraught and inconsolable. Jon only sought to ease my frayed emotions.” Sansa continued.

Rhaegar started to speak but Elia put her hand on his.

“What was the cause of your distress, Lady Sansa?” she asked in a soothing voice.

Sansa hesitated, panicking at the question. Her eyes flickered to Rhaenys and the princess stepped forward, turning to face them.

“On my honor as your daughter, I vow that everything we speak is true. Sansa has been the focus of a horrible cycle of abuse.” she said.

Sansa flinched at the words, stepping closer to Jon as if he could protect her from the truth of the words. The king and queen both looked shocked as well as Aegon, who had no clue of the secret she was hiding.

“Is that what she told you?” a voice said mockingly.

She shuddered at his voice, turning with wide eyes to look at Joffrey. He stepped up, a smirk on his face. Sansa recoiled, inhaling sharply as she squeezed Jon’s hand too tightly. His entire body tensed and when she turned to look at him, she knew that he knew.

**Jon**

He was a levelheaded person by nature. It took a lot to rile him up to a burning fury. But when he saw Sansa’s reaction to the Baratheon brat and everything fell into place, Jon saw red. He pulled his hand from Sansa’s, curling them both into fists as he stepped forward. Joffrey looked at him and paled to the color of the ivory silk that his mother was wearing at the terrifying look in his eyes.

“You.” he growled, sounding nothing like himself.

Cersei stepped up, looking every inch like a mother lion protecting her cub.

“You would do well to control your son, Your Grace.” She said, her eyes flickering up to Rhaegar.

Jon felt another stab of anger at the way she spoke to his father but he did not get the chance to say a word about it.

“How dare you speak to your king in such a way?” his sister snapped, stepping towards the Lannisters.

Cersei looked quelled for the moment, giving him an opening.

“Tell them what you did.” Jon said, still glaring at Joffrey who was scared shitless at the moment.

The golden-haired boy didn’t say a word, looking at his grandfather for help. Tywin said nothing, staring down at him coldly. Tyrion was separated from his family, wanting nothing to do with them at the moment.

“Tell them!” Jon shouted.

Cersei let out a cry of panic and Rhaegar called for his Kingsguard to restrain his son as Jon launched at Joffrey. No one got a chance to touch him before a blur of red flew through the air and Sansa was standing between Jon and the boy he so wanted to throttle. She put her hands up in front of her, stopping him in place. Jon breathed heavily, heat flooding his body.

“Jon.” She said softly, her voice breaking through his haze of fury.

He looked down at her, staring into her bright blue eyes that held nothing but gentle understanding. Sansa stepped forward, ignoring everyone else in the room as she put her hands on his cheeks.

“Nothing good will come of harming him and you will only bring the blame upon yourself. Right now, the only person in the wrong is Joffrey and it shall remain that way. You promised me that you would bring full measure of the king’s justice upon him and now you have delivered. You must let the king, your father, hear of his actions.”

Jon nodded, taking a deep breath as he inhaled her sweet scent of lavender. He glanced up at Joffrey, feeling no less angry with him. But he forced himself to turn away and face his father, taking Sansa’s hand in his once more. Before anything went further, the king dismissed the Tyrells to keep them from learning anything more.

“What proof do you have of these allegations against Joffrey Baratheon?” Rhaegar asked.

Sansa glanced at Jon hesitantly and he nodded in encouragement, knowing that all she needed to know was that he was right there beside her. She reached down, carefully lifting her sleeves to show the bruises spotting her pale skin. Queen Elia could not control her gasp, putting her hands over her mouth. Aegon looked outraged while Rhaenys shot her encouraging looks, nodding at her.

“There is no proof that my son did that.” Cersei broke out, glaring Sansa down.

“Actually, there is a witness.” Rhaenys said.

She nodded at a guard and a door opened off of the side of the room. Sansa stared with surprise as Joanna walked through, looking distraught as she walked among the nobles and looked at the Lannisters with fear.

“Who is this?” Rhaegar questioned.

“She is my former handmaiden, Your Grace.” Sansa answered.

“Former?” Elia asked, interested in the use of the word.

Sansa nodded at her, confirming her words.

“Why former?” Rhaegar wondered.

“I caught her in the act of informing the Lannisters of every detail of my life when they were not there. When Joffrey last attacked me, she gave him the key to my hidden solar and allowed him in.” she said coldly, staring at Joanna.

The other woman flushed, looking ashamed for all she was worth. Jon bristled with anger at the handmaid who inadvertently led to causing Sansa pain.

“Speak, girl. What have you to say?” Rhaegar questioned.

She swallowed hard before speaking.

“Lord Joffrey paid me for information on Lady Sansa. When I told him of the hidden solar, he demanded that I find a way for him to get in there. I simply had to slip the key out of the lady’s dress when she wasn’t paying attention. I gave it to him. I thought that he wanted to see it. I didn’t think… I didn’t know what he planned for her. When I came back to the room, she was beaten and there was blood. Sansa cleaned herself up before calling on Lord Tyrion. He arranged for her to be taken out of the Red Keep and seen by a maester.”

Every eye in the room looked to Tyrion, who looked unperturbed by this revelation.

“As it happens, I have that very maester here as well as the young woman who helped him clean her wounds, her new handmaiden.” He said, striding forward looking much more confident than men who were triple his size.

“You little monster.” Cersei hissed at him.

He turned back to look at his elder sister, looking like he didn’t care about her insult.

“Apologies, dear sister. I never had much love for my eldest nephew. He was always the true monster in the family. If you saw the state of Lady Sansa’s back that night, you would have agreed with me.”

Jon’s hand tightened around Sansa’s and he fought the urge to bury his head in her hair to calm himself. He’d never wanted to attack someone this much in his entire life. A growl built up in his throat as Joffrey dared to shoot a glare to Sansa. The younger male looked away quickly, cowed by the danger in Jon’s stance.

**Sansa**

When the maester was led in, they all listened to their testimony that fitted perfectly with Sansa and Joanna’s stories. They were dismissed when they were done, leaving the king to consider what they said. Elia leaned over to whisper something in his ear, causing him to nod once. When he opened his mouth to cut in, Cersei spoke up.

“Shouldn’t you give my son a chance to speak up for himself and tell his story?” she said angrily.

Rhaegar stared between her and Joffrey for a moment.

“It would be fair.” he agreed.

Sansa listened with disbelief as Joffrey spun his own tale of what happened. When he reached the end and dared to speak of her arranging their meetings to seduce him, she lost her grip on her emotions and stepped towards him.

“You have made my life miserable for years and you dare to suggest that I had any hand in the horrible way that you treated me? You deserve to burn in all of the seven hells for the helplessness and fear that you constantly made me feel.” Sansa said angrily, spitting out the words as if they were poison.

She moved towards him, feeling anger overflowing that had been pushed aside every since the day he first hit and threatened her.

“Your father stood beside mine on the battlefield and he surrendered the throne to the rightful king after my father. If I am the daughter of a traitor, you are most certainly the son of one.” Sansa said angrily.

Joffrey seemed to move past his fear of Jon’s actions as he straightened up and stared her down with a furious glint in his eyes. Sansa felt a spark of fear go through her when she realized that she’d moved too far away from Jon. She started to reach back for him but Joffrey’s hand was coming down on her face before Jon’s comforting touch returned. Sansa’s head snapped to the side and she tasted blood in her mouth as a growl of fury echoed through the Great Hall along with the sound of the degrading slap. Rhaenys gasped and hurried forward as she heard commotion. Sansa looked up to see that Jon was on top of Joffrey with punches raining down on his face. Aegon and several members of the Kingsguard were trying to remove him but he was shoving them away with bursts of strength.

“You bastard!” Jon shouted along with a string of more curses.

Sansa’s eyes flickered to Cersei, who looked truly afraid for her son at this point. When her eyes flickered to Sansa, something tugged at her mind. They finally managed to drag Jon off of Joffrey and Sansa saw that his face was a mess of blood. A thrill of victory went through her and she smiled in an almost feral way, blood staining her lips and teeth where he cut the inside of her cheek in his hit. Joffrey looked at her with shock, fear, and pain. Whatever he saw in her expression, it scared her just as much as Jon’s fists.

“Sansa.” Jon said, dropping to his knees in front of her.

That was when she realized that she’d fallen to the floor when Joffrey hit her. Sansa reached out for him, wanting his hands in hers. They were smeared in blood, both his and Joffrey’s.

“Jon. My Jon.” She sighed when she saw the cuts on his knuckles.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, helping her to her feet.

Sansa nodded despite the throbbing pain in her face. Rhaegar cleared his throat and they turned to see that he was staring around with disapproval.

“Joffrey Baratheon, you are hereby stripped of all titles, lands, and inheritances for conduct unbecoming a future lord. You will be banished from court on pain of death to serve out your exile in Casterly Rock for the rest of your days. Leave and you will be met with the realm’s justice. Be gone before the sun sets on tomorrow.”

Cersei gaped at him before looking at her father. Throughout the entire confrontation, Tywin had remained suspiciously silent.

“Will you not do something?” his daughter hissed.

“Your fool boy got himself into this situation. It is not my duty to get him out. He will serve his punishment.” Tywin said simply, sinking into a bow for the king before turning to leave.

“You are dismissed.” Rhaegar said, staring at Cersei and Joffrey.

They hurried out, Cersei helping her son as she promised him a maester. When the king’s eyes turned on Sansa and Jon, they moved closer to each other, ready for their punishment.

“Go to Maester Pycelle. Sort yourselves out before dinner tonight. I expect to see both of you there.” he said simply.

Sansa relaxed next to Jon, almost slumping into him. As they walked out of the Great Hall, Rhaenys and Aegon were with them. Sansa clutched at Jon’s arm and stopped before they could descend the steps. He looked over at her questioningly.

“Is it truly over?” she whispered.

“That little shit is never going to be near you again.” Aegon vowed, looking just as furious as his brother.

Sansa stared into Jon’s eyes and he nodded. She sighed, stepping into his arms and burying her face in his neck. Jon wound his hands behind her back and he held her close, his face pressed into her hair as he murmured reassurances.

\---------

**Jon**

As soon as he knocked on the door, it was opened quickly and he recognized Sansa’s handmaiden.

“Shae, right?” Jon asked.

She nodded once, glancing around.

“Are you looking for Sansa?” she asked.

He confirmed it with a nod as well, unable to see her over Shae’s shoulder. The handmaid opened the door wider and he stepped inside, realizing that she was not in the room.

“If she is not here…” he began.

Shae interrupted him by closing the door and giving him a look, walking over to a long curtain on the wall in the corner of the room. She pushed it aside to reveal a door and Jon remembered all the talk of a hidden solar. Part of him said that it was not appropriate to enter a hidden room with the most beautiful lady on the other side but the other part of him didn’t care at all. He followed the latter instinct, stepping forward to knock on the door.

“Come in.” Sansa’s voice rang out, warm and inviting.

Jon opened the door and stepped in to see her sitting at a desk by a window, her back turned to him. The doors to the balcony were wide open, letting a breeze into the room. He glanced around, impressed by the solar. He never came into these rooms, knowing that they might have belonged to his mother in another life.

“Can you get me another parchment, Shae?” Sansa questioned.

Jon walked to her, putting his hand on either side of her on the desk.

“Not Shae.” He whispered in her ear, his breath washing over her.

Sansa shivered and leaned her head back into him.

“Jon.” She sighed, happiness and satisfaction rolled into her voice.

He gripped the desk tighter at the way his chest tightened only at hearing her speak his name. Sansa turned her head, seeking out something that he was all too eager to provide. Their lips pressed together softly at first but he quickly deepened the kiss, his hand sliding into her hair. Sansa dropped her quill, reaching up to cup his cheek. When Jon nibbled on her lower lip and swept his tongue over it to soothe it, she let out a whimpering noise that could not be mistaken for anything but desire. Jon longed to sweep her into his arms and kiss her forever but he reminded himself to slow down. When he pulled away, Sansa’s lips followed his as she made a disappointed noise low in her throat. Jon chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face.

“You still haven’t written the letter?” he asked.

That was a sufficient distraction for her need to continue kissing. Sansa’s shoulders slumped and she huffed, shaking her head.

“I do not know why this is so difficult. The king has given me leave to write to my family but I do not even know what I will say.” she admitted.

Jon’s hand went to her neck as he stood behind her, his thumb brushing soothing circles over the skin. Sansa chewed on her lower lip as she thought.

“They’re your family, Sansa. All they will want to know is how your life is. They will want to know that you’re safe.” He said, staring out at the glittering Blackwater beyond the window.

Jon knew that Sansa could hear the darker tone in his voice as he spoke of her safety. Her hand reached up, entwining in his and squeezing gently.

“I am safe now.” She murmured.

It was true. Even with the Lannisters gone from court, all except for Tyrion, she had a rotation of two guards posted at her door day and knight that followed her through the Keep when she left her chambers. A week had passed since their confrontation over Joffrey’s abuse and the bruise on her face was just starting to yellow. There was a small cut on her cheek that would not take much longer to heal. Jon’s knuckles were quick to heal as well, the small cuts barely warranting any herbs. Sansa still insisted on applying a salve each morning before they broke their fast.

“Do you want to go riding to clear your head?” Jon asked.

“I can’t. I have to go to the maester to give him the herbs that we will not use and then Rhaenys wishes to dine with me in the gardens.” Sansa answered.

Jon grumbled, cursing his sister at the moment for taking her away from his presence.

“And then?” he wondered.

Sansa pulled him down to kiss her once more, smiling against his lips.

“And then, I want you to take me to wherever we can do this… a lot of this.” she murmured.

Jon let out a noise of agreement, sliding his hand into her silken locks.

“I will escort you to the maester’s tower.” he said, pulling her up to stand.

The guard shadowed them as they walked, their hands entwined at their sides rather than her hand tucked into his elbow formally. Neither of them cared about the impropriety of it all. The court was already emptying of nobles after the celebrations ended and it was not too soon for either of them. After the Lannisters disappeared from court, rumors followed in their wake. When it came out that Tommen was heir to Storm’s End rather than Joffrey, they were all stunned. So when the buzzing gossip mongers left King’s Landing, it was not too soon for Jon. He was enjoying the peace that settled over the castle but something stirred within him and left him restless. Somehow, he felt that everything was not so peaceful and done as they thought. Sansa’s voice broke him out of his thoughts and he turned to see her looking at him questioningly.

“What?” Jon said.

She let out a sigh.

“I asked if you were going on the hunt with your father and brother next week?” Sansa said, leading him towards the Maester’s tower.

“Yes, I suppose I am. The Tyrells feel that it is their duty to ensure that their part in the Lannister schemes is remedied. They should really be courting you for forgiveness rather than us.” Jon mumbled.

She shook her head as they entered Maester Pycelle’s chambers.

“I do not want anything to do with them. I would be happy if they never thought of me again.” Sansa decided as they approached the door.

“I know.” Jon said, pressing a kiss to her temple as he knocked on the door.

\----------

**Rhaenys**

When she heard footsteps, Rhaenys glanced up from the carefully arranged table to see Sansa walking towards her. She was not alone, Jon at his side as he was so often ever since the Lannisters left court. Rhaenys smiled, watching as they faced each other in the middle of the path. She could not hear what they said as their voices were too low but when her brother placed a soft kiss to Sansa’s lips, it almost made the princess melt. They were so sweet together and she could not help but wish that they’d found each other sooner before Sansa had to live through the horrors that the Lannisters provided for her. Sansa turned away from Jon, shooting him one last look before drifting away.

“Rhaenys.” she said with a grin, embracing her.

They kissed each other’s cheeks before sitting at the table. Sansa looked around with wide eyes at the elaborate assortment of foods, smiling fondly when she saw the lemon cakes.

“And how are you faring, dear Sansa?” Rhaenys asked.

The younger woman flushed, ducking her head.

“Quite well, Rhaenys, as I am sure you can imagine.” Sansa replied as she reached for her cup of honey wine.

She took a drink, relishing in the sweet taste.

“I don’t have to imagine anything,” Rhaenys countered. “Anyone can see the happiness that shines on your face as well as my brother’s.”

She reached out, taking Sansa’s hand with an encouraging look.

“I am glad that you have found pleasure in each other’s company. You deserve it after everything.” She said quietly.

Sansa looked at her gratefully, squeezing her hand in return before they went back to choosing their foods. A small breeze flowed around them from the bay that made the air quite pleasant.

“Have you written the letter to your family yet?” Rhaenys asked.

Sansa shook her head, swallowing her bite.

“I do not know what to say. I have always thought of a thousand things to say to my family but now they all seem to be escaping me. It does not seem as though anything is good enough.” she said, clearly frustrated.

“I am certain that you will find the right thing to say. I do not think they would judge you harshly at all. After all, it will be the first they’ve heard of you in ten years and I’m certain they will cry with joy at seeing your writing.” Rhaenys said, trying to encourage her.

Sansa looked at her sadly.

“I wish that my words could be in person, rather than on paper.” she sighed.

Rhaenys looked at her with sympathy.

“Your wardship has transferred to the crown. Until it ends or my father grants you permission, you cannot go back to Winterfell. If he allows you to go home, he is honor bound to give Myrcella Baratheon back to the Lannisters.” She said softly.

“I know.” Sansa nodded, refusing to let herself to get choked up with emotion.

She looked out at the water, taking deep breaths of the fresh air to calm herself.

“I think I will tell them of Jon. Of how much he looks like my father and how kind he is. How he has given me so much with no expectation of anything in return. I will tell them how he is so very northern that it is hard to believe he’s truly a southern prince.” She said, tracing the lip of her cup as she spoke.

“Jon belongs as much to the North as he does to the South. He is connected to both through our father and through Lyanna.” Rhaenys said.

Sansa looked at her, a small smile playing on her lips. Before either of them could say another word, the bells of Baelor’s sept began ringing loudly. They both stood at once, their eyes wide.

“Either someone is attacking or…”

“Someone has died.” Rhaenys finished Sansa’s sentence.

They both hurried through the gardens to the courtyard. Aegon and Jon were darting towards the Great Hall as the courtyard buzzed with confusion over what was going on.

“Sansa.” Jon said, going to her side immediately.

Their hands entwined and Rhaenys felt a stab of jealousy. It was not that she did not want her brother and her friend to find happiness. It was only that she desperately longed for such happiness in her own life.

“What has happened?” Sansa asked as they hurried towards the throne room.

Her brothers did not know. As soon as they walked into the Great Hall, they saw the king’s advisors all around him talking quickly and in low voices. Elia was nearby, hovering with her hands clasped over her heart.

“Mother?” Rhaenys said, gaining her attention.

The queen hurried over to them, waving off the pleasantries that etiquette dictates.

“The Hand of the King has died.” She said, a worried tone in her voice.

All three of the royal children looked stricken, having grown up with Jon Connington’s presence in their life as much as their mother and father’s. Sansa took Rhaenys’s hand as well, looking at her with sympathy.

“What aren’t you saying, Mother?” Aegon asked suspiciously.

Elia hesitated, glancing back at her husband before turning to them.

“He was murdered.” She said in a low voice.

Rhaenys clenched down on Sansa’s hand and knew that Jon was doing the same on her other side. All of the sudden, their light spirits were darkened by this news.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Jon Connington's death, Sansa tries to help Rhaenys, Jon, and Aegon to the best of her abilities. She also deals with her own desperate wish to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay in updating. I got caught up in something else (namely another Jon x Sansa fic that I started). If you would like to check it out, I would love to hear your feedback on it as well. Don't worry, this story is my number one priority when it comes to writing.
> 
> I don't love this chapter mostly because it's a filler chapter that bridges two different storylines. The next chapter will usher in the next part of the story but I wanted to put something between them to let us all have a breath. It does have a time skip of a few weeks after Jon Connington's funeral for storytelling purposes.

**Sansa**

Sansa did not like the look of black on her skin. It sounded self-indulgent but she appreciated the way that bright shimmering fabrics fell across her curves and complimented her hair and eyes. With black, she felt muted and drowned within the dark fabrics. But there was something about this black dress that was different. Sansa was unable to stop running her hands over the soft material, bunching it in her fingers before letting it slide through to the ground again. It was decorated only by the black Myrish lace that covered the bodice and her arms. Her hair fell down her back in soft curls and was covered in a sheer black veil.

She did not much like the look of black on her, but somehow this felt like she was saying goodbye to the silly young girl who allowed herself to be used and abused by a family who hated her. A knock sounded on her door and she turned, walking to the door to open it herself. Shae stood back, remaining silent as Sansa sank into a curtsy. Jon bowed to her, looking as solemn as he ever had. Neither of them said a word. She gathered her skirts in one hand and took his arm in the other, walking down the passage along with him. When they finally reached the Queen’s Ballroom, Jon spoke for the first time.

“Did you meet him?” he asked in a rough voice.

Sansa glanced over at him.

“Once and very briefly. He seemed kind but very quiet.” she answered.

Jon nodded in agreement.

“He would have followed my father to the land beyond the Wall if he asked, my brother too. Aegon was always closer to him. Lord Connington was like a father to him for a very long time.”

Sansa must have looked confused as they stepped out into the yard. As if the day knew of their somber emotions, dark clouds were in the skies and the sun was completely blocked out.

“When my mother died, my father did not know how to handle the sadness that he felt. I think he thought that if he threw himself into loving and raising her child, it would somehow bring her back. So he paid me all of the attention that he could manage and left Aegon to be raised by the queen and his Hand.” Jon said, leading her towards the stables.

“He really loved Lyanna.” Sansa breathed.

“Enough to tear apart his kingdom for her.” he replied.

They reached the stables and she saw that the only saddled horse waiting on them was Jon’s stallion. She glanced into the stables to see that Myriah was still in a stall.

“I didn’t want to ride alone.” Jon admitted in a low voice.

She turned to him, looking at him with a sad smile. Sansa reached out, allowing him to help her onto the saddle. Jon effortlessly swung himself up on behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He reached up with one hand, turning her chin towards him. Sansa’s eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to hers softly. Jon sighed, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I needed that.” he admitted.

Sansa brushed their lips together once more before leaning back into his chest. Two members of the kingsguard followed them. They headed for Visenya’s Hill, able to see the Sept in the distance. Sansa’s hands reached towards Jon’s, covering them as he gripped the reigns. When they reached the large building, he helped her down and they walked up the steps. The two city guard members guarding them opened the large wooden doors for them, allowing them into the dark room. All of the windows were covered with heavy curtains, allowing the only light to be from the candles. The silent sisters moved around the platform where Jon Connington’s body laid. There were two coins over his eyes and his hands were folded peacefully over his chest.

Sansa saw Aegon and Rhaenys at the front of the sept, both dressed in black just as they were. Jon led her forward and the others turned as they heard them coming. Rhaenys stood immediately, embracing them both.

“Are you certain that you want to do this? It is going to be a long night.” The princess murmured.

“I’m certain.” Sansa nodded.

With the king in seclusion with the queen after his good friend’s death, his children wanted to stand vigil over his body for a few hours. Sansa did not have to do it but considering that they did so much for her, she was willing to be there for them. She sat between Jon and Rhaenys, both of her hands clutched in one of theirs. Aegon was separated from them, his head in his hands. After a long time of sitting there and listening to the silence of the room, Jon pulled his hand from Sansa’s, standing up to walk to his brother. He sat beside him, putting a hand on Aegon’s shoulder.

“Don’t.” the older brother said, jerking away from him.

Sansa and Rhaenys stared in shock as he stood up, moving away from Jon.

“I’m only trying to…”

“I know what you’re trying to do. You always have to be the better brother.” Aegon snapped, interrupting him.

Jon looked surprised as Rhaenys stood as well.

“Aegon.” she sighed, reaching out to him.

He ducked out of her reach, causing hurt to flicker over her face.

“Our father always loved you best. Our sister always loved you best. The only thing that I ever had is my mother and him.” Aegon said, jabbing his finger at Jon Connington’s body.

“That’s not true.” Jon argued, standing up as well.

Sansa was the only one who remained sitting, staring up at the siblings helplessly as Aegon looked at his brother furiously.

“You were always his favorite. Perhaps you should have been his heir, rather than me.” he snapped.

“I would have taken it more seriously!” Jon yelled, his control breaking. “I listen in our lessons! I attend Father’s council meetings! I know of the state of our realm! You would rather spend your time visiting brothels and drinking wine!”

Aegon’s eyes widened and for a moment, Sansa thought that he might hit his brother.

“At least I had a mother!” he shouted venomously.

Rhaenys gasped, her hands going to her mouth. Jon’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed violet just as they did when he discovered Sansa’s bruises. He didn’t say another word, turning to stalk out of the sept. Sansa stood but Rhaenys stopped her.

“He wouldn’t listen to either of us right now. Please, I’ll go after Jon.” The princess said, her eyes pleading.

Sansa glanced at the door as it slammed shut, nodding slowly. She wanted to go after Jon but she saw that Aegon needed comfort as well. Rhaenys rushed out after Jon and Sansa stepped up to the other brother. She took his hand, pulling him down to sit.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” he admitted.

“I know.” she murmured, putting a hand on his knee.

When he looked up at her, she saw that tears were shining in his eyes.

“When we were young, Jon would always be on Father’s lap. When he was on the Iron Throne listening to the smallfolk, Jon was there. He would always stay quiet, almost like he was listening to their petitions himself. He went to see an execution before Rhaenys or me. He didn’t even flinch or look away, knowing that Father would be proud of him and he was. He got a sword before me, a Valyrian steel greatsword. He doesn’t ever wear it or use it but sometimes he’ll clean and sharpen it in the godswood,” Aegon sighed, looking down at his hands. “But Jon Connington kept me with him. I would be on his lap when he was had meetings in the Tower of the Hand. I would follow him around the Keep and go riding with him when he needed to get away. He was more of a father to me than the king ever was. Father always loved Jon best and his Hand loved me. And someone killed him.”

“I’m so sorry, Aegon.” Sansa whispered, reaching up to brushing his tears away.

He looked up at her once more, a strange glint in his eyes. When he reached out and brushed his hand over her chin, Sansa knew what he was going to do. His lips descended on hers but before they could meet, Sansa jerked away and pushed him back, her hands on his chest.

“Don’t.” she said, her eyes wide.

Aegon stared at her sadly, looking more like his father in that moment than he ever had.

“You love him best too.” He said.

Sansa stood up, brushing nonexistent wrinkles out of her skirt.

“You are in mourning, my prince. You should not say or do anything you will regret when this is over.” she said softly.

With that, she turned to hurry out of the sept, no longer comfortable in Aegon’s presence. She wasn’t sure but as she turned to leave him, she thought she saw a mad glint in his eyes that terrified her. As the doors opened, she saw Jon and Rhaenys on the steps facing each other. They looked as though they were arguing but their voices ceased as soon as they noticed her. Sansa walked towards them, unsure of whether to curtsy or not. The lines between being their subject and their friend were becoming blurred. Rhaenys stepped away from her brother, kissing Sansa’s cheek just before she hurried up the steps to join her brother once more. As soon as she was gone, Jon stepped towards her and gathered her in his arms.

Sansa held him close, closing her eyes for several moments as they stood together. When the first drop of rain fell on Jon’s head, he looked up at the black, cloud-covered skies. Sansa did the same, blinking when several drops fell on her face at once.

“We should go inside.” Jon said, taking her hand.

“No.” Sansa said, sliding her fingers into his.

He looked back at her questioningly. Sansa pulled the veil off of her head, letting it flutter to the ground as the rain started to mist down upon them. She walked up a few steps, standing on one above them so their eyes were level with each other.

“You’re getting wet.” Jon argued feebly, gently trying to push her up the steps once more.

“I don’t care.” Sansa replied, cradling his face in her hands.

By the time their lips met, the rain was coming down on them with full force. They were both wet through quickly but they didn’t pull away. Sansa’s arms wrapped his shoulders as his slid around her back. The kiss started out as soft and sweet but quickly turned into passionate and desperate. When they heard the sound of thunder clapping loudly over them, they drew away to look into each other’s eyes. The door to the sept opened behind them and they turned, watching as Rhaenys and Aegon hurried out.

“We should get back to the Keep!” the princess shouted.

Jon nodded, refusing to look at his brother as they dashed down the steps towards their horses. Jon quickly helped her onto the horse before climbing on behind her, taking off in the direction of the Red Keep with Aegon and Rhaenys on either side of them. The Kingsguard surrounded them to keep them safe but there was no one in the streets of King’s Landing, all of the smallfolk having taken cover from the rain. Mud was kicked up behind them as they hurried towards the castle. When they pulled in the gates and raced towards Maegor’s Holdfast, Sansa was shivering in front of Jon. They all leapt off of the horses, hurrying inside.

Rhaenys held her hand out to Sansa as they were both on opposite sides of the castle from Jon and Aegon. She took the princess’s offered hand, glancing back at Jon for a moment before dashing away with her. They hurried up the stairs and to their separate chambers. Sansa allowed Shae to strip off her soaked gown and shift, putting on a clean shift and a dark silver dressing gown. Her handmaid wrung her hair out, braiding it into a bun at the nape of her neck to keep the cold locks off of her neck. Once she was dressed, a knock sounded on her door.

“Princess Rhaenys invites you to join her in her solar.” the serving girl said.

Sansa wondered if she should change into a proper gown but the girl reassured her that Rhaenys was dressed similarly. When she entered the solar, Sansa saw the princess seated in front of the roaring fire with a cup of mulled wine in her hand.

“Come.” Rhaenys said, gesturing to her.

Once she was seated, a servant handed her a glass of the spiced wine and Sansa took an eager drink of it, sighing with relief when it warmed her body.

“I do not think I can sleep tonight. There is just too much.” Rhaenys admitted.

As if to prove her words, lightning flashed outside of the window and a clap of thunder echoed around the castle.

“Then I will remain here with you.” Sansa vowed.

Rhaenys gave her a mixed look of surprise and gratitude, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently.

\----------

One day, several weeks after Jon Connington’s death, Sansa found herself walking to the yard, standing in the shadows as she watched the men sparring. Her eyes fell on Jon immediately and she clutched at her skirts when she spotted him. He wore no shirt and his breeches seemed to cling to him more than usual. His bare torso was dripping with sweat as the sun beat down on him. Sansa caught her lip between her teeth as he fought with Loras Tyrell. Her eyes did not even flicker to the Knight of Flowers. They were fixed on the muscles of Jon’s back tensing and rolling as he moved. When he knocked Loras off of his feet, the men around him cheered but Jon reached for a skin of water, drinking it slowly as he turned away from him. As if he could feel her eyes on him, his own searched her out and found her with ease.

Sansa wasn’t sure what he saw in her face but whatever it was, it made his gaze darken and his hands clench into fists. She turned away from him, her cheeks burning as she walked towards the holdfast quickly. When she made it inside, Sansa lifted her skirts and hauled up the steps to her chambers, shoving the door open. Shae looked up with a surprised look from where she was helping another maid make Sansa’s bed.

“My lady.” They both said, curtsying to her.

Sansa ignored them, walking to her table. She poured a cup of wine with shaking hands, lifting it to her lips and swallowing a large mouthful. She saw Shae dismiss the other servant out of the corner of her eye before approaching her.

“Did something happen?” her handmaid questioned, looking at her warily.

She didn’t answer right away, staring out of the window as she traced the lip of her cup with her finger.

“I’ll be in my solar,” Sansa said eventually, turning away. “Tell him that when he comes.”

“Who, my lady?” Shae asked.

She didn’t answer, closing the door behind her but leaving it unlocked. Sansa threw the doors to the balcony open, walking out to stand at the railing. A breeze came off of the water, ruffling her dress and cooling her off a bit. She held onto the iron rail with one hand as she drank from the cup of wine much slower than before. When the door opened behind her, she shivered and gripped the railing tighter. Jon approached her slowly, sliding a hand around her waist to press over her abdomen when he reached her. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access.

“I have a dilemma.” Jon murmured, trailing a finger over her pulse point.

“What’s that?” Sansa breathed, curling her hand over the palm that lay against her abdomen.

He inhaled the scent of the rose oil on her neck and sighed, his warm breath spreading over her skin.

“I adore your neck,” he said, brushing his thumb over her collarbone. “But I also delight in your hair.”

Jon nosed at the silken locks that were pulled up.

“I cannot decide which I would rather be able to do, kiss your neck or touch your hair. That is my dilemma.” He explained.

Sansa lifted the cup to her lips, drinking the rest of the wine before letting it clatter to the ground. She did not care. Her hand reached up and she grasped the comb, sliding it out of her auburn locks to let them fall around her shoulders. Jon pressed his face into them, his fingers lifting to play with a curl. Sansa knocked his hand away, gathering her hand and pulling it over one shoulder to reveal one side of her neck.

“There, my sweet prince,” she murmured, allowing him to touch her once more. “Now you can have both.”

Jon let out a soft groan, turning her around. Their lips pressed together urgently and Sansa’s hands came up, gripping at his tunic. When she felt that he only had a loose woolen tunic on, she pushed herself closer to him as heat flooded her body. They staggered into the solar and crashed into the desk. Jon lifted her up to sit on it, pushing the papers to the ground. Sansa clutched at his shoulders, fisting the fabric of his tunic in her hands. Jon’s lips trailed over her jaw, traveling to her throat where he kissed and nibbled at her skin. Sansa’s head fell back and she let out a whimper.

“Jon.” she breathed, clutching at his hair as he pressed a kiss the hollow of the throat.

Sansa pulled his head up, running her hands down his chest and stomach before gripping the edge of his tunic. She lifted it over his head in one quick motion, tossing it to the ground as she admired his lean, muscular body. Her hands itched to explore the exposed skin and when she placed her palm over his pounding heart, he inhaled sharply and drew her in. His hand tangled into her hair and he kissed her with as much passion as he could muster, leaving her dizzy and breathless. As Jon teased her earlobe with his teeth and tongue, Sansa gasped out his name and felt heat pooling between her thighs.

“Jon, take me home.” she found herself whispering, burying her face into his shoulder.

Sansa kissed the warm skin of his neck, nipping at him gently as he groaned and pulled her even closer. Her legs fell open and he moved between them, pressing their chests flush against each other.

“Take me home.” Sansa pleaded, trailing her fingers over his back.

“Sansa, I can’t.” Jon sighed sadly, sounding truly regretful.

She drew away, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Take me home.” she repeated, her voice lower and much more dangerous.

Jon looked at her with sorrowful eyes, putting his hand on her cheek.

“It is not my place.” he said.

She dug her fingernails into his back, raking them down his skin and drawing blood with a scowl.

“I am a wolf of Winterfell. I belong in the North. Take me home.” Sansa said furiously as he hissed in pain and tried to get away from her.

That was when the dream ended. Sansa stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, wondering what could possibly brought on such a dream.

\----------

**Jon**

When he heard footsteps approaching him, he turned to see Sansa walking towards him gracefully. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she wore a gown of deep purple with silver trimming. Her hair was gathered at the crown of her head and he was immensely pleased to see the silver comb with amethyst stones that he presented to her a fortnight ago was holding the auburn locks up.

“My lady.” He said, bowing to her.

“My prince.” Sansa replied, curtsying.

He held out his arm for her and she took it as they began walking amongst the flowers of the garden.

“How did you sleep?” Jon asked, glancing over at her.

She tensed for a moment, a flush rising in her cheeks as she looked anywhere but at him.

“Quite well,” Sansa replied, clearly lying. “And you?”

“The same.” Jon said, wondering why she didn’t tell him that she had a fitful sleep.

It was not as though he would hold such a trivial thing against her. But perhaps she did not want to answer questions of why she did not sleep well. So he was content to change the topic of conversation to something else. Yet her reaction to his words stuck in his mind all day. For some reason, her words bothered him so much that it was all that he could think of, even when he was called to attend a late night council meeting with his father. When he received the news, Jon knew that he could not wait to tell Sansa. That was how he found himself knocking on her door. Her handmaiden answered, sinking into a curtsy as soon as she saw him.

“Is your lady here?” he asked.

She nodded, gesturing to the door to the solar. Jon slipped past her, knocking on the door lightly.

“Come in.” Sansa’s voice called.

She sounded distant and Jon immediately discovered why when he pushed the door open. She was standing on her balcony in a dark green dressing gown. Her hair tumbled down her back freely and she held a cup of wine in her hand. When her head turned and her eyes met his, Jon stopped short just to admire the way she looked in the moonlight that shone down on her.

“What is it?” she asked, frowning as she stepped into the room.

Jon pulled himself out of his trance and took a deep breath.

“We have received news. The Lannisters arrived at Casterly Rock and they are not alone. Several of their bannermen have met them there and it is rumored that Tywin is meeting with them for hours on end.” Jon said, not bothering to blunt his words for her.

She would understand his meaning no matter what and he knew that Sansa did not enjoy being treated like a child who could not understand the way of things after the Lannisters treated her that way for so long. She frowned, setting her cup down on the desk.

“Do you think they mean to march against your family?” Sansa wondered.

Jon didn’t know what to think and he told her as much.

“The Lannisters have been loyal to the Targaryens for hundreds of years. There would be no sense in rebelling against us.” he said, frowning with confusion.

“Unless they seek the Iron Throne.” Sansa pointed out.

He shook his head.

“They have no claim.” He reminded her.

“Right by conquest.” Sansa said, playing with a chain around her throat.

Jon had seen it quite often but never asked her what it was, knowing that she might prefer her privacy when it came to it. She did always keep it hidden, after all.

“That would make them usurpers, not rulers.” he said.

“That makes no difference when you wear the crown and wield the power.”

He huffed, sitting down on the sofa. Jon tugged on his hair with frustration as she walked around to sit next to him. Sansa lifted her hand, turning his head to face her.

“I am sure that everything will be fine.” she said, stroking his jaw softly.

Jon sighed, lifting his hand to slide into her hair.

“You have such faith in the world.” he said.

“No, I have faith in you and in your father. I have faith that things will be as they should be.” Sansa corrected him.

Before he could answer, she leaned in and kissed him lightly. Their lips pressed together with the slightest bit of pressure before she leaned in more and swept her tongue over his bottom lip. Jon couldn’t fight back the quiet groan that was muffled by her lips. Sansa’s teeth nipped at his lip and pushed herself closer. When she pulled away after several moments, Jon tried to chase her lips with a disappointed noise.

“What would you say if I asked you to take me home?” Sansa asked.

Jon pulled away, looking into her eyes with confusion. He realized suddenly that this was what she hadn’t wanted to tell him earlier that day. He sighed, cupping her cheek in his hand. As much as he hated the idea of parting with her, Jon already knew what his answer would be.

“Someday, sweet girl. As soon as I am able, I will ride across the seven kingdoms with you myself to take you back to Winterfell.”

Tears gathered in Sansa’s eyes and she lowered her head, opening her palm to show him the pendent. Jon trailed his finger over the direwolf.

“Why do you not show this when you wear it?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She looked back at him with hesitation, one tear slipping down her cheek.

“I am not sure that it would be right.” Sansa admitted.

Jon shook his head, pulling her in for a kiss once more.

“You are a Stark of Winterfell. You are not forbidden from showing that.”

Sansa sighed with relief, kissing him passionately before drawing away and burying her face in his shoulder. Jon wrapped his arms around her, leaning them both back against the sofa cushions as they just held each other.


	10. Author's Note - Chapter Rewrite

I am so sorry but I wanted to let you know that I did delete chapter 10. After receiving some wonderful constructive criticism, I've decided to rewrite the chapter to flow a bit better and to make more sense. There were a few things that I did not think about and now I will work to make the story better both for myself and for my readers. You guys deserve better than what I wrote in the last chapter so I promise to try to make it better. The chapter should be posted rather soon, I hope.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa works with the royal family to prepare for a possible war. The plot to overthrow them is revealed with devastating consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the rewrite of chapter 10. I am much more satisfied with this version and I hope that you like it. I am sorry for the confusion of rewriting it and all that.
> 
> Don't worry, the Starks are still coming soon-ish. It will just be a little more delayed than before.
> 
> I apologize in advance for the name of Jon's sword. I honestly had no idea what to name it.

**Sansa**

In the wake of the news about the Lannisters and their bannermen, the king’s councilors advised him to foster his relationship with the smallfolk that lived near to King’s Landing as well as with his own bannermen. Word would travel that Rhaegar was making an effort to know the people that he ruled and, if it came to war, that would endear him to many. At least, that was the excuse given when his family, as well as Sansa, was tasked with helping him. Rhaeager remained behind to pen letters to the Houses loyal to him as well as to visit the commanders of the Targaryen armies and the city watch along with Aegon. Elia and Rhaenys would remain behind in King’s Landing to distribute food and alms to the poor in Flea Bottom, and Sansa was paired with Jon to ride out to a small village that needed a representative of the king to meet their various needs.

That was how they found themselves traveling on the Kingsroad on their horses, surrounding by members of both the City Watch and the Kingsguard. Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, not used to the leather sheath strapped to her calf beneath her riding boots. Jon insisted upon it as they rode out, just in case. It made her feel safer to have a dagger so close to her but it would also take time to get used to. Jon wore his longsword, looking like he felt more comfortable with the sword than without it. Sansa wondered if he would truly wield it like a third arm the way that Rhaenys vowed that he could.

When they reached the first village, they moved through the roads slowly. People came out of their houses, attracted by the sound of their approach. They immediately recognized the Targaryen banner that was held up and began calling praises to their prince.

“You are most welcome, Prince Jon!”

“Seven blessings on you, Your Grace!”

“Long live the king and long live his children!”

Sansa looked around, smiling slightly at the obvious love that the people had for Jon. If it came to a war, she did not see how they would possibly want anyone other than Rhaegar and his heir on the throne. When she remembered the terrifying glint in Aegon’s eyes at Baelor’s Sept, her smile faltered and she looked over at Jon. She’d seen no evidence of madness in the youngest Targaryen son, quite the opposite in fact. Jon was the gentlest person she’d ever known, not counting Tommen, who was a little boy.

“The gods bless you, my lady!”

Her head snapped around and she looked at the crowd of people with shock, wondering if they truly were speaking to her. When her eyes flickered to Jon, he was smiling at her, nodding as if to confirm that they did mean her. Several more compliments were given to her amongst the ones shouted at the prince and Sansa flushed with happiness. As they reached the town square, she looked back to see that the people all followed them, most likely eager to know why Sansa and Jon were there. He leapt off of his horse and then helped her down, sliding his hand into hers as they faced the crowd of people. The Kingsguard looked very uncomfortable with his vulnerable placement before the smallfolk but they did not dare to take him away when his father sent him on this trip. Jon held his hand up to quiet the people and it worked like a charm.

“Good people of Westeros, we are here to help you in whatever way that we can.” He said, looking around at them.

Sansa watched him as he spoke, unable to keep her eyes off of him.

“We have brought food, maesters, and medicines,” Jon said, gesturing to the wheelhouses that had followed them. “Tend to your ill, take the supplies that you need. My father, King Rhaegar, wishes for the people of his realm to flourish. I will go into the inn with the Lady Stark, and we will hear any petitions that you may have and you can have my word that they will all be spoken of to the king and his council.”

The people roared their approval as Jon was led to the inn by a village elder, their guards surrounding them as they did so. Sansa sat down with him, gazing at him with a slight smile as they were giving a full meal by the innkeeper.

“Thank you…” Jon said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Timothy.” The man answered, looking thrilled at meeting the prince.

The prince nodded at him.

“Thank you, Timothy. You may call me Jon. May I present Lady Stark to you?”

Sansa stood, taking his hand as well.

“Please, call me Sansa. We do so appreciate your hospitality.” She said, smiling at him.

“You are very kind, my lady. Very kind, indeed.”

She beamed at him as he bustled away to find them a flagon of wine. When Sansa sat down once more, she looked across the table at Jon once more.

“What?” he asked, tearing a piece of bread in two.

“You are so very good with the people. They love you.” Sansa said, a smile pulling at her lips.

Jon flushed, ducking his head as he picked up a spoon to eat his soup.

“I only wish to do good by them.” he admitted.

Sansa reached across the table, taking his hand in hers.

“And that is why you are such a good prince.” She assured him.

Jon glanced up at her and smiled, squeezing her hand before encouraging her to eat. They did so quickly, eager to receive the petitions so that they could hear as many as possible. Once the food was gone, they sat in wait as men and women were led in one after another. A servant sat nearby, taking notes so that they could be given to the king in full. Sansa and Jon kept their hands entwined the entire time. Every once in a while, she would rub soothing circles into the back of his hand or he would lift hers to his mouth between petitioners to kiss it softly. After several hours of speaking with every villager with an issue, they finally walked out of the inn with full stomachs and full minds.

There was an even large crowd than before, all watching as they approached their horses. They yelled out the same shower of compliments and blessings. When several small children broke through the crowd and ran towards them, their guards tensed and the people quieted, wondering what would happen. They all crowded around Sansa, attracted by the pretty blue and silver riding dress that she wore. She did not hesitate before crouching down in the dirt with them despite their messy appearance. Sansa pressed a silver stag into each of their hands and gave them all kisses on their foreheads with smile.

“What’s your name?” a little girl with wide brown eyes and dirty blonde ringlets asked her, tugging on one of her curls.

“Sansa, what’s yours?” she asked.

“Alayne.” The little girl answered.

Sansa smiled at her, touching her finger to her nose.

“That is a very pretty name, Alayne,” She said, holding her arms out in an invitiation. “May I have a hug?”

The little girl nodded quickly, beaming at her before diving into her arms. This turned into a large hug with each of the kids clutching at some part of her. Sansa stood once they stepped away, grinning around at all of them.

“Will you come back, Lady Sansa?” a boy asked.

“Well, that depends. Am I invited?” she asked.

“Yes!” the children all chorused.

She laughed happily, nodding at each of them.

“Then I would be thrilled to come back. You have my word that I will return to see each and every one of you.” Sansa promised.

Once she stepped forward, they parted to allow Jon access to her once more. Sansa pulled on her leather riding gloves as she approached him. When she reached him, she saw a strange look in his eyes.

“What?” she asked, seeing awe and disbelief mingling on his face.

He shook his head once before gathering his arms around her waist. When he kissed her full on the mouth, the people around them roared their approval. Sansa flushed in pleasure, gripping his shoulders as she smiled into his mouth. When they broke away, they looked over at the people.

“They love you.” Jon breathed.

“Not nearly so much as you.” Sansa replied.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

They did not get to settle the argument as they noticed that the guard was getting more and more tense the longer they were out of King’s Landing. Jon finally relented, helping her into her saddle before walking around to his horse. Sansa patted Myriah, waving at the children before trotting away with him. Once they came to the crossroads, Sansa hesitated, looking longingly towards the northern part of the Kingsroad. She knew that it led straight to her home and could not deny the longing that filled her.

“Sansa?” Jon said, sensing her troubled mind.

She turned to look at him, forcing a smile onto her face.

“I am just thinking.” Sansa said, turning her horse to ride back to King’s Landing.

As they did so, they both discussed the petitions and how best to bring them to the king and his council. When Jon quieted after a long while, Sansa looked over to see that he was deep in a thought that seemed to be troubling him.

“What ails you, my prince?” she asked.

Jon did not hesitate before speaking to her.

“If the Lannisters do march on the crown, what reward do they seek? Do they wish to kill all of my family and take the Keep? Will Tywin Lannister sit on the Iron Throne?” he wondered.

“No, he would be the Hand,” Sansa said instantly. “If you serve the right king, a weak king, there is more power in being the Hand.”

Jon huffed but did not counter her words.

“So who would he put on the throne? The Kingslayer?” he scoffed.

Sansa’s heart dropped a bit and she clutched at her reigns.

“Jaime would not be the king. He would not allow Tywin to have too much power and he knows that.” she said, looking anywhere but at Jon.

She could feel his eyes on her and knew that he wore a stunned expression.

“Jaime?” he said in a low voice that didn’t sound too happy at all.

Sansa sighed, turning to look at him. Sure enough, his grey eyes were darkened slightly and his mouth was drawn into a frown.

“He was kind to me, Jon. The only one who was kind to me at Casterly Rock, other than Tyrion. He was banished to that place just as I was and we found a friendship in each other.” she explained.

“Is that all you found in each other?”

She looked at Jon with wide eyes, jerking Myriah to a stop with disbelief and horror in her eyes. Jon stopped as well, turning his horse to face her.

“I have heard of the Kingslayer’s charms when it comes to women. It seems that he can convince anyone to do anything with his silver tongue. Or shall I call it golden?”

“I have heard enough, my prince.” Sansa cut him off, her voice harsher than it had ever been when speaking to him.

When his cheeks colored, she did not know if it was with anger or shame.

“You may dislike the Kingslayer all you like…”

“I thank you for giving me permission,” Jon cut her off in return, his brow furrowed. “After all, he did kill my grandfather.”

“And your grandfather killed mine as well as my uncle. They were your family as well, lest you forget. The Mad King intended to burn King’s Landing to the ground with everyone inside, including your brother and sister.”

Jon looked surprised at her words, the emotion finally breaking through his anger and what Sansa finally identified as jealousy.

“The history books do not tell that version, do they? It is much easier to think Jaime a horrible villain rather than a man who saved thousands of lives.” she snapped, her anger overflowing.

Sansa could not bear to remain there any longer. She kicked Myriah into motion, flying past him without a second thought. Despite her urge to get away from Jon, she knew that he would be right behind her. They galloped the rest of the way to King’s Landing, the guard keeping up with them. As soon as they reached the gate, Sansa slowed down but did not look Jon’s way, not wanting to give him the chance to give her a sad look and profusely apologize. She knew that she was like to forgive him easily if he did so and she wasn’t ready to give up her anger so quickly.

When they rode into the Red Keep, Sansa went straight into the stables and allowed the stable boy to fetch a block, getting off of Myriah herself without any help. Jon caught her arm before she could leave, nodding at the boy to leave them alone. She huffed, turning her head away from him. He pushed her against the door of a stall gently, his hands cupping her cheeks as Jon tried to look in her eyes.

“I am sorry, dearest Sansa.” He murmured, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

“For what?” she asked, keeping her voice cold and aloof.

Jon nuzzled at her neck, his beard scratching at her skin delightfully in a way that she loved. When he pressed a soft kiss to her earlobe, she shivered and felt heat rushing to her lower half. Sansa clenched her thighs together, unconsciously tilting her head back.

“For offending you, my dear lady. I did not think on my words before I spoke them. I should not have questioned your honor when you have more than any other person in this place. I hope that you will forgive me.” Jon said in a quiet, pleading voice.

His hands gripped her hips gently and his mouth trailed kisses over her throat as she sighed and fought the overwhelming urge to bury her fingers in his hair. When Jon scraped his teeth over her pulse point lightly, Sansa gasped and arched towards him with a quiet cry.

“Jon, someone will see.” she protested weakly, clutching him closer in contradiction with her words.

“Let them see. I must make amends to my sweet, lovely Sansa.” Jon said.

Sansa pulled her gloves off, allowing them to fall to the ground. She finally slid her fingers into his long, wild curls. He let out a whisper of a sigh but when she yanked on the strands, he groaned and leaned his head back, looking into her eyes. Sansa saw unrestrained desire for her in his grey eyes. Her breath caught her in throat and she almost did not say what she intended but she finally managed to force the words out.

“Jaime Lannister never held me like this.” Sansa said, looking at him with a similar look of desperate desire.

Jon pulled against her grip as if he was desperate to return his lips to hers. She did not allow him such satisfaction immediately. Sansa finally leaned forward, brushing her lips over his very lightly.

“Jaime Lannister never kissed me like this.” she whispered.

With that, she crushed their lips together and Jon let out another deep, heady groan, sliding his hands around her back to pull her even closer. When Jon pulled away, she let out a disappointed whine and he grinned against her skin, placing kisses all down her throat and chest. When he kissed the top of her breasts that barely peeked out of her riding dress, Sansa let her head fall back against the door. Jon fell to his knees before her and she looked down at him with eyes heavy with want for him. For a delightfully twisted moment, Sansa wondered if he would lift her skirts and dive beneath them to give her a different kind of kiss. A flush of shame and lust spread over her face and chest at the thought.

“My dear Sansa, could you possibly forgive me?” he asked, taking his hands in hers.

She fell to her knees along with him, caring not for her dress. Sansa threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing in close to him. The position they were in did not allow him much balance to catch her and they tumbled onto the straw of the stables with her lying on top of him. Both laughed, caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation. Sansa pressed a firm kiss to his lips, running her fingers through his hair.

“Of course I forgive you, my sweet Jon. How could I not?” Sansa sighed, stroking her fingers over his cheek.

He smiled up at her, his entire face lighting up.

“I did not think that it would be so easy.” Jon said, clearly jesting with her.

Sansa gave him a light slap that made him laugh. She sighed as she folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin upon them.

“Ice can only withstand fire for so long, my dragon prince. I may as well learn to love the burn.”

Jon gaped at her for several moments, trying to find something to say. Before he could speak, another voice rang out.

“Oh, well excuse me.”

Both of their heads snapped to the entrance of the stable to see Rhaenys there looking incredibly amused. Sansa scrambled to get away from Jon, getting tangled in her skirts. They finally managed to stand up, both with dirt on their clothing and straw in their hair. The princess stared at them with raised eyebrows, a smile tugging at her lips.

“We are to dine with Father and his council. Perhaps you both wish to bathe unless you intend to show up in the Great Hall looking thoroughly ravished.”

Sansa and Jon both blushed even more, looking down at their feet as though they were being scolded. Rhaenys let out a delighted laugh, turning to walk away with satisfaction in every step. Jon glanced up at Sansa through his lashes and she could not help the smile that formed on her mouth. He slid his hand into hers and they walked back to the holdfast after picking some of the straw out of each other’s hair that resulted in a few more kisses.

\----------

**Jon**

When he and Sansa walked into the Great Hall, both bathed and dressed with teasing smiles on their faces, Jon expected to be sharing their experience in the village with their father. When they saw guarded looks of his family and the council, they both grew somber and quiet.

“What happened?” he asked as they sat at the table across from Rhaenys and Aegon.

“The Lannisters have a further reach than we originally thought.” Varys sighed, shaking his head as if something terrible happened.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the Master of Whispers, who was never surprised by anything. He imagined that if it served Varys, he would have told his king about the reach of the Lannisters months ago.

“We have reason to believe that the Lord Commander of the City Watch is loyal to Tywin Lannister.” Rhaegar said.

“Janos Slynt? Why would he be loyal to the Lannisters? He is not one of their bannermen nor is he even from the West.” Rhaenys questioned.

“The same reason anyone else is loyal to the Lannisters. Gold, and lots of it.” Jon threw in, feeling frustrated beyond belief.

Baelish leaned forward, putting a piece of paper in the middle of the table.

“This is a pamphlet going around the Westerlands condemning our king and his heir to be as mad as King Aerys.” He said.

Rhaegar snatched it up, frowning as he read it. Jon stared at the man they called Littlefinger, wondering if he was truly to be trusted after all that he’d heard of the man.

“It urges people to trust nothing that comes from the seal of the king and even entreats your armies to turn their backs on you and support the one true king.” Baelish continued.

“What king is that?” Aegon said, infuriated by what he was saying.

“My brother.” the king said, putting the pamphlet down.

Jon’s brother reached out and grabbed it as everyone else looked at the king with surprise. Suddenly, Viserys’ absence from the table seemed to resonate with each of them. Daenerys paled even more, looking at her brother with a wide-eyed expression.

“Where is your brother, husband?” the queen asked, seeming to be almost afraid of the answer.

“I believe that he is dining with Loras and Margaery Tyrell in the gardens.” Varys answered the question.

Jon felt a rush of fury go through him and his hands curled into fists where they were sitting on the table. When he felt a light touch to his hand, he looked over to see Sansa looking at him with wide blue eyes and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Jon released the tension in his hand, turning it over to lace with hers. She relaxed a tiny bit and glanced back at the others. He did the same, refocusing his attention.

“Why would the Lannisters abandon our alliance now? They were perfectly content to fight with you in the rebellion to ensure your rise to the throne.” Rhaenys said.

“That was when they thought that I would be more receptive to their advice than my father. I am certain that Tywin intended to be appointed as Hand once the war was over and has been harboring resentment towards me ever since I chose Jon Connington instead.” His father answered.

Jon felt Sansa’s eyes on him once more as he remembered their conversation only hours before.

“So he intends to put Viserys on the Iron Throne.” Aegon said, glancing over at the raised chair.

“Our brother would be a weak king,” Daenerys broke in. “He thinks himself a true dragon when everyone laughs behind his back.”

“A weak king means a powerful Hand and that’s exactly what Tywin wants.” Jon said, glancing at Sansa.

She nodded at him.

“The Lannisters would be a strong force if they manage to unite the Tyrell army with theirs as well as the Baratheon bannermen. Their fleet would outmatch our own.” The king said quietly as though he was thinking aloud.

“If I may, Your Grace,” Maester Pycelle said, speaking up for the first time. “If you wish to avoid a war, I think that dining with the Tyrells might have its merits.”

Everyone stared at him, wondering how it was possibly a good idea for them to meet with the allies of the people who were shaping up to be their enemies.

“I am certain that they have proposed matches between young Loras and Margaery in return for their fealty. If you can give them a better match, perhaps they could be persuaded to withdraw their support from the Lannisters.”

Aegon slammed his hand on the table, glaring at the old maester.

“These are not potential allies, they are traitors to the crown. They should be treated as such.” He argued.

“We do not have evidence of their treachery. It would be better to appease them.” Elia said, reaching over to touch her son’s hand to calm him.

Jon looked over at his father, watching as his face settled into one of deep thought.

“So we match Margaery with Aegon and Loras with Rhaenys…”

“Father…” his two eldest children began to argue.

He held his hand up to silence them, glancing first at his queen and then at his three children.

“Arrange the dinner.” The king instructed his councilors.

They all stood, bowing to him before leaving.

“Father, there are other ways of doing this,” Rhaenys said pleadingly. “I do not want to marry Loras Tyrell.”

“What do you suggest?” their father replied, looking at her.

She looked straight at Sansa, who flushed at the sudden attention that was on her.

“Send Sansa to the North, to Winterfell. She can convince her father to rally his bannermen and join us. Perhaps the Riverlands and the Vale will do the same. Mother can go to Dorne and bring the bannermen of House Martell. We can fight them.”

Jon watched as his father stared at Sansa.

“No.” he decided.

“But…”

“Leave it, Rhaenys.” Elia cut her off.

His sister looked between the king and queen with disbelief before standing up with an angry look.

“I will never forgive you if you give me to that family to be used as a hostage.” She snapped before turning to run out of the Great Hall.

Jon stood as well, looking at his father with a solemn look. He tugged on Sansa’s hand and she stood as well, both of them following Rhaenys out. As the door closed behind them, they heard Aegon continuing the argument against allying with the Tyrells.

\----------

**Sansa**

They both sat in front of the fire in Rhaenys’ chambers, watching as she paced back and forth angrily. She gestured wildly with a cup of wine in her hand as she ranted on and on about the Tyrells, the Lannisters, and her father. Jon and Sansa simply remained quiet, allowing her to get it all out of her system.

“I think that Father is just trying to avoid a war.” Jon said, most likely trying to placate his sister.

It did not work.

“Is that really an excuse for selling his only daughter off?” Rhaenys demanded, glaring at him as if daring him to say something wrong.

“No, it’s not. But it is a reason.” Jon replied.

The princess huffed angrily, taking another long drink of the Arbor Gold wine. Sansa did the same, knowing that this would likely be a long night.

“I swear to you now, if he insists on trading me like a pawn, I will find passage on a ship to the Free Cities and you will never see my face again.” Rhaenys threatened furiously.

Sansa exchanged a wary look with Jon, wondering if his sister meant her words. He shook his head, standing up to embrace his sister. She sighed into his shoulder, relaxing as the tension seemed to drain from her body.

“I doubt that it will come to that, dear sister. Perhaps the Tyrells would be happy with Margaery married to Aegon. She would be queen, after all.”

Rhaenys let out a delicate snort as she pulled away from him.

“And what a queen she would be.” she said, rolling her eyes.

Sansa couldn’t hold back a small laugh and Rhaenys shot her a smile, clearly cheered up by Jon’s words.

“Shall I escort you back to your chambers?” Jon asked, holding his hand out to her.

“Sorry brother, she’s mine tonight,” Rhaenys said, pushing him towards the door. “We have much to talk about.”

Jon protested, glancing at Sansa over her shoulder as she laughed helplessly, shrugging as if to say that she could not do a thing. Once was gone, the princess turned to her with a smile.

“Out of respect for your privacy and my brother, who I know hates to speak of things that are his own, I have remained quiet about what is going on between you two. Now, my patience has run thin and I must absolutely know everything.” She said.

That was how Sansa found herself with Rhaenys in her bed as they both burrowed beneath the blankets and she told her almost everything that happened with Jon since their impromptu ride through the Kingswood. The more she spoke, the more happy Rhaenys looked. As they started to drift off into sleep, the princess suddenly reached over and took her hand.

“You would do it too, wouldn’t you? If someone tried to marry you off again? You would run.” Rhaenys said quietly, looking into Sansa’s eyes.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to her.

“No one will ever tell me who I will marry again.” Sansa replied in a low voice, speaking the absolute truth.

Rhaenys squeezed her hand, looking at her gratefully for speaking the truth.

\----------

**Jon**

The castle was tense the next day as it seemed that everyone knew that the Tyrells were meeting with the royal family. Aegon refused to come and everyone thought that it was best Sansa not attend. Before Jon was forced to meet the pompous family in the Great Hall, he was walking through the library with her.

“What did your sister mean when she said that Viserys wasn’t a true dragon?” Sansa asked, looking over at him.

She was fiddling with the direwolf pendent that was always around her neck now, a shortened chain allowing for it to be seen. Jon sighed, wondering how he could explain it to her.

“There is something that is in a Targaryen’s blood if he or she is meant to be a true ruler, a true dragon. They go through a test of sorts when they are young.”

“A test?” Sansa wondered, frowning in confusion.

Jon gestured to the lit torch on the wall that was flickering and casting shadows against the stone.

“Fire.” he said.

Jon approached it, waving his fingers over the flames. When he pulled his sleeve up and shoved his entire hand into the fire, Sansa gasped and clutched at his arm. Jon did not even shout or wince in pain. He just watched with the fire flickering in his grey eyes.

“It is only the heir to the throne that normally is tested but Aegon challenged me when we were younger. I put my entire arm into a fireplace and it came out unburnt.”

Jon pulled his hand out and Sansa reached out, to take it. His skin was burning hot but there were no blisters or blood. He was just fine.

“That’s amazing.” Sansa whispered, stroking her hand over his callused palm.

“Viserys refused to touch fire when he was young and he still refuses to do so but he still calls himself a dragon. Once, he fell off of his horse and struck his arm against a rock. The maester had to pour boiling wine over the wound and we heard his screams all the way from the Queen’s Ballroom. He is no dragon.” Jon said darkly, feeling anger stirring deep in his chest.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with hesitation.

“When I was a little girl and still living in Winterfell, I walked across a lake of ice. I did not know how thin it was or that it would break. But it did and I fell in. Robb was there and he ran to get our father. They all came running and several men dove in to get me. My father was the one to pull me out, he said I was under for several minutes but I was not even cold or sick. Several of the men who went into the water got frostbite on their fingers and toes. My father and I had nothing. We were both all right.”

Jon looked at her with an amazed look, twining their fingers together as he stared into her eyes.

“Fire and ice.” He murmured, looking down at their joined hands.

Sansa smiled slightly, glancing up at him.

“What a pair we make.” She said, a small smile on her face.

Jon nodded at her, sliding his hand into her loose hair. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers lightly. When they heard a member of the Kingsguard calling for him, he sighed heavily and rested his forehead against hers.

“You have to go.” Sansa said, her hands curling into his hair.

“Not if we ignore it.” Jon mumbled.

She laughed and kissed him once more before they walked down the library steps. As soon as they were outside in the courtyard, they saw his father’s steward running into the Great Hall with a panicked expression. Jon and Sansa exchanged a worried look before hurrying to follow him. He did not pay any mind to the fact that she was not invited to the dinner, bursting into the throne room. Rhaenys looked up at their entrance, walking over to them with a confused look. The three of them stood together, waiting expectantly. Jon quickly took note that the Tyrells were nowhere to be seen.

“Your Grace,” The steward said, bending low into a bow. “I bring word of a fleet of ships advancing on King’s Landing from the Blackwater Bay. From the west, an army of twenty thousand men carrying Lannister banners marches on the city as well. They are all expected to be here within the week.”

A hush fell over the room as they all looked to the king to see how he would respond.

“What of our armies?” his father asked.

The steward looked wary of answering but opened his mouth to do so regardless.

“The men are refusing to fight for a king who is meant to be mad. They say that they would rather turn craven than serve Aerys reborn.” He said carefully, looking at the king with a hint of fear as if he might believe the words that he was speaking.

They all remained silent, wondering what this meant for them.

“They plan to lay siege to King’s Landing.” Rhaegar finally said.

Everyone else looked at him, seeing a resigned look in his eyes. Jon hated seeing his father that way. He looked older and more weary than his years as he put a hand on the table to support himself.

“What a dilemma, brother.”

Their heads snapped around to see Viserys stepping out of the shadows.

“You traitor.” Rhaenys said, glaring at their uncle with fury.

Viserys ignored her, a proud smirk on his face as he walked towards the Iron Throne.

“My army will kill each and every person in this city unless you abdicate your throne to me, dear brother. You will also go to the wall with your sons and take the black, all three of you.” he said, ascending the steps.

“You have no authority to do this.” Jon hissed, stepping forward.

Rhaegar reached out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

“The people have named me their king.” Viserys said simply, turning around to face them.

“The Lannisters, you mean.” Rhaenys said through gritted teeth.

He shrugged, looking as though he did not care about the difference. When he sat down on the throne, Jon tensed up and reached for the sword strapped to his waist. He didn’t usually carry his longsword, Dark Silver. But with the recent threats, Jon did not go anywhere without it.

“You dare to sit on your brother’s throne.” the queen said angrily, glaring at Viserys.

He did not seem to be put off by her words, in fact he looked quite amused.

“Bow down and swear fealty to me now and no one will have to suffer.” he offered.

Jon’s father stepped forward, looking up at Viserys with disdain on his face. Daenerys joined him, providing a united front against their mad brother.

“We do not bow down to usurpers.” Rhaegar said through gritted teeth.

Viserys clicked his tongue, sighing as he sat back in the throne.

“That’s really too bad.” He said, waving a hand at the gold cloaks standing at the doors.

They opened and everyone turned to see Aegon pushed through by several men. There were at least twenty gold cloaks that poured into the hall, standing around the royal family with threatening looks on their faces. Sansa clutched at Jon as they looked upon the largest man they’d ever seen. Gregor Clegane, a well-known Lannister bannerman, was holding Aegon by the scruff of his neck and Jon saw that his brother was bloodied and his hands were shackled. He reached for his sword once more but Rhaenys stopped him, looking at him with fear in her eyes.

“Let it be known that I am the blood of the dragon. And the dragon does not show mercy.” Viserys said proudly, lifting his chin.

He nodded at Clegane who grinned, drawing a dagger from his belt.

“No!” Elia screamed, leaping forward.

Two men of the city watch caught her and Rhaegar both. Jon did not hesitate this time, drawing his sword and engaging with two of the gold cloaks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister yank Sansa out of the way as he fought the men, taking them down one by one. When he heard a gurgling noise behind him, he stopped fighting. The queen let out one long scream as the sound of a body hitting the floor filled the room. Jon turned slowly, his entire body filling with ice-cold horror as he looked up on his brother’s body.

Blood spread out on the stone beneath Aegon from the cut in his neck. Elia fainted, falling to the ground as silence filled the throne room. Jon’s ears filled with a furious roar that he realized came from a combination of his own voice and his father’s shout. The king drew his own sword, cutting through men one-by-one. Jon did the same, fighting once more for his dead brother.

“Jon, stop!” Rhaenys shouted.

He turned his head towards her, wondering why she said such a thing. That was when he saw that this father was trapped in Clegane’s arms with the same dagger pressed to his throat, still dripping with Aegon’s blood. He froze, breathing deeply as the sword was wrenched from his hands. The next thing he knew, he was forced to the ground and his hands were yanked behind his back, shackled in irons. Jon looked up to see that his father was in a similar situation.

“Take the women to the queen’s chamber and keep a guard on them. Take my brother and nephew to the black cells.” Viserys said dismissively, looking triumphant.

Jon’s last glance before he was dragged away was Sansa looking at him with a terrified expression, reaching towards him as she was pulled out of the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is kept in the queen's chambers while Jon is in the dungeon. Viserys offers Sansa an ultimatum and they find help from a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received quite a few negative comments on the last chapter, not as many as the positive ones but I got them nonetheless. I just wanted to say something about it. I recognize that this story and my writing will not be everyone's cup of tea. I know that the entire world will not like this fic and I am fine with that. I just ask that you not leave messages telling me how much you hate the story and even insulting me for writing it. No one is forcing you to read. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's that simple. This is my first time writing a Jon/Sansa fic and only my second GoT/ASoIaF fic. I am not going to write it perfectly within canon and it might not even make sense sometimes but I am trying my hardest.
> 
> On another note, to everyone who is supportive and absolutely amazing, I love you all very much!

**Sansa**

The queen’s bedchambers were beautiful and in any other circumstance, Sansa would be marveling over the fact that she was allowed to step foot in them. At the moment, however, she would have given anything to be back in her own private solar with Jon beside her. She was standing beside one of the large windows overlooking the dark city. Daenerys and Rhaenys were sitting on the bed tending to the queen as she huddled on her side and kept her eyes closed.

“You should sit down, Sansa.” Rhaenys urged her.

She didn’t listen, chewing on her lower lip as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool glass. Eventually, her exhaustion won out and she sat in a chair before the empty fireplace. The room had a chill to it but she didn’t feel it like Daenerys and Rhaenys, who were huddled in two of the queen’s cloaks. She pulled her slippers off and slipped her feet beneath her, staring at the wall silently as she played with the direwolf pendent. Sansa did not realize when she fell asleep but when she woke, it was to a loud slam on the door. She jerked up, realizing that a blanket had been laid over her. Daenerys and Rhaenys were pushing themselves up in the bed, both with tired eyes.

When the door opened, two gold cloaks stepped through. Sansa wondered where the Kingsguard was and why they hadn’t been there to help their king. Ser Barristan surely wouldn’t leave Rhaegar and Jon to be sent to the wall or even killed on Viserys’s orders.

“The king commands your presence.” one of the men said, looking directly at Sansa.

 _Gods give me strength_ , Sansa thought to herself as she pushed herself up out of the chair. She set aside the blanket with trembling hands and made no move to fix her hair or dress. She knew that her auburn locks were a tangled mess and that her dress was wrinkled but she did not care. After all, she did not care about looking appropriate in front of a usurper. Rhaenys started to stand and protest but Daenerys caught her much to Sansa’s relief. She would not allow the princess to be harmed for someone so insignificant as herself.

When she was led into the Great Hall, she stared around at the courtiers and nobles who were dressed to their best and staring at her with derision. _Traitors_ , she accused them in her head. How could they stand aside and allow their true king to be imprisoned and replaced with his mad brother? Looking up at Viserys where he sat on the throne that did not belong to him, she felt a stab of fury when she saw Rhaegar’s crown sitting atop the pretender’s head.

“So good of you to join us, Lady Sansa.” Viserys said, looking as arrogant as ever as he lounged on the iron chair.

She did not answer, staring up at him coldly with her fingers wound into the skirt of her dress.

“You might be wondering why I brought you here,” he said, leaning forward to stare down at her. “As the sole representative of the Starks and of the North, you are expected to pay fealty to me. I sent a raven to Winterfell informing them of my decision to allow you to act on their behalf.”

“I am not a representative of the Starks or the North. I am a ward of the crown. I cannot and will not be expected to bend the knee on the behalf of my father or any other lord. That decision is theirs alone.” Sansa replied in a level voice.

Viserys leapt up, his eyes glinting with anger.

“You will kneel to me, Lady Sansa. I will ensure it.” he threatened.

She did not reply, angering him further. Viserys glanced around at the nobles and courtiers. Sansa knew that he could not afford to let them see him as weak, not when he needed as much support as he could have.

“The Lannisters are marching here, you know that?” he said, smirking at her.

“I am aware, Prince Viserys.” Sansa replied.

A chorus of murmurs and gasps echoed around her at her blatant disregard for the crown on his head. His hands clenched into fists as he stepped down from the dais and approached her.

“Joffrey Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End, marches with them.” he said.

Sansa fought back any reaction to his name that might make Viserys think that he had an upper hand on her.

“Joffrey Baratheon is heir to nothing. Your brother stripped him of all titles and inheritance. As he was forbidden to ever leave Casterly Rock, you are duty bound to put him to death for disobeying the order of the king.” Sansa replied, keeping her eyes forward as Viserys circled her.

He let out a laugh, a cruel and cold sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“I’ve promised to give him back his inheritance… and his plaything.”

Sansa paled, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from reacting any further.

“In return for his support, you are to be sent to Storm’s End with him as soon as he arrives.”

She stared at him with fear in her eyes.

“I will not marry him.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Viserys asked, clearly amused by her reaction. “He only wants you for amusement. Unless, of course, you have other uses to me, such as keeping the North under control. A traitor’s daughter only has few uses.”

Sansa turned her head to his, staring straight into his violet eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark stain on the stone floor where Aegon’s body fell. She drew strength from the anger that she felt over his unfair death.

“I would rather be a traitor’s daughter than a mad usurper.” she said in a low voice.

Viserys looked angry and the next thing she knew, the back of his hand was connecting with her face. Sansa staggered a few steps but remained upright, lifting her hand to touch the blood that welled from the cut in her cheek. Gasps echoed around the room once more and she wondered if the people knew that they would be coming to court to see this.

“You would do well not to unleash the dragon, Lady Sansa.” he said threateningly, pointing at her.

“I see no dragon. Just a boy playing at a game that he has no hope of winning.” Sansa fired back.

He raised his hand as if he would slap her again and looked satisfied at her answering flinch.

“I have a mind to throw you into the black cells to reunite with your beloved Jon but that would be too kind. At least I may give Lord Joffrey good news when he arrives. He’ll be happy to have his toy back,” Viserys said, walking back towards the throne. “Take her away.”

Sansa was yanked out of the room and taken back to the holdfast where she was shoved into the queen’s chambers. Rhaenys leapt up and ran to her as she staggered to a chamber pot. Sansa clutched at the sides as she emptied the meager contents of her stomach, her entire body trembling. The princess held her hair back, rubbing soothing circles into her back. When she finally collapsed onto the floor, Rhaenys looked horrified at the red mark and cut on her cheek.

“What did he want?” Daenerys asked, looking at her from the bed..

Sansa took a deep breath, accepting the cup of water that Rhaenys gave her.

“For me to pledge the fealty of the North to him,” she answered once she swallowed some of the cool liquid. “He threatened to give me back to Joffrey.”

Rhaenys set about cleaning her cut, doing what she could to help her. There was a sympathetic look in her eyes and her hands were gentle.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I told him no,” Sansa said simply, looking up at Rhaenys. “When the Lannisters get here, he’ll give me to Joffrey and there will be nothing and no one standing in the way of him.”

Rhaenys reached out, holding her hand tightly.

“That will not happen.” She said in a certain voice.

“Who will stop it?” Sansa questioned.

**Jon**

It was the darkest place he’d ever been. Jon couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face if he lifted it. They hadn’t been given any food or water yet. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed. It was just all darkness all the time. It was no wonder that men went insane down here. He didn’t know where his father was. Jon didn’t dare to call out to him. He wasn’t sure if the king would hear him. All he could hear were the screams from the cells beneath them. He did not know why people were being tortured down there but it seemed that their horrific sounds were getting louder and louder. When he closed his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate on Sansa’s wide blue eyes and silky hair.

Jon tried to remember her as she’d been in the stables and the library. He tried to see her bright smile and feel her soft skin beneath his hands. But somehow, he kept going back to the fearful expression that was the last he saw on her face. She was reaching for him. Sansa was desperate for him to save her and he could do nothing. Jon clenched his hands into fists, knocking his head back against the wall to get the image out of his head. He had no idea what was happening to her at the moment, or his sister, aunt, and stepmother. Jon knew of the rumors that surrounded Gregor Clegane.

At the thought that he might be touching any of the women in such a way, he felt anger filling him and would have staggered to the door and banged on it if he knew where it was. Jon had to get out of there but he truly had no idea how.

“Oh dear, this place is terribly dark.” A strange voice said out of nowhere, making him jump and the chains around his wrists rattle.

A light flickered up and he stared up at the hooded figure. The man crouched next to him, the light from his torch shadowing his face.

“Varys.” Jon said through gritted teeth.

“Dreadful place, isn’t it?” the Master of Whispers said.

He would have throttled the eunuch if he could reach.

“What do you want?” Jon demanded.

“I thought you might need someone to speak with.” Varys answered.

Jon leaned forward, ensuring that the other man could see his glare.

“You watched my brother being slaughtered and did nothing.” He accused.

“And would again, my prince. I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by swords. When you look at me do you see a hero?” Varys replied.

Jon scowled at him, sitting back against the stone wall once more. He closed his eyes, willing the man to go away.

“Dear Sansa was brought before your uncle this morning.”

His eyes flew open and he looked at him once more.

“What happened?” Jon asked.

“She was very strong considering the choice she was facing.” The older man sighed.

“What choice?” he said.

Varys looked at him with a calculating expression.

“Her honor against her life.” He answered.

“And which did she choose?” Jon asked, terrified of the answer.

The eunuch gave him a sad smile.

“She is a Stark, dear prince. I do not think I need to answer that question for you. She is to be given back to Cersei’s boy and I am not terribly certain how long she’ll last this time.”

Jon felt an icy grip on his heart as he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself not to scream out in anguish.

“I suppose that I am meant to make the same choice,” Varys sighed. “I could be accused as a traitor for even speaking to you. But then again, my sacrifice hardly measures up to that of your dear Sansa.”

He ignored the tears burning in his eyes as he looked upon the Spider.

“Tell me something, Varys. Who do you truly serve?” he questioned, a catch in his voice.

“The realm, my prince. Someone must.” Varys answered.

With that, his light went out and Jon was thrown into darkness again. Once he was certain that he was alone, he let out a shout of fury and slammed his fists against the ground.

**Rhaenys**

She was aware that it was ridiculous for none of them to eat very much but they could not trust the food that was being sent to them. Viserys already killed one of his family members and there was nothing to keep him from doing it again. She dreaded to think of what might be happening to her father and brother at the moment. Rhaenys was exhausted not just from her sleepless nights but also from the emotional turmoil of trying to hold everyone together. Sansa was dreading the arrival of the Lannisters and their army, Daenerys was silently cursing herself for not seeing that her brother was planning all of this, and her mother was catatonic. It took two full days for Sansa to force Rhaenys to sit down and take a few minutes for herself. Daenerys and her mother were sleeping at the moment. She sighed, laying her head back against the chair.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa said, sitting across from her.

“For what?” Rhaenys asked, frowning at her.

The younger woman leaned forward to take her hand.

“I’ve been so selfish these past two days in forcing you to care for me as well as your mother. I did not think about the fact that you just lost a beloved brother.” Sansa said, looking regretful.

Rhaenys looked at her with a sad expression, squeezing her hand.

“You are truly a very kind person.” She said.

Sansa didn’t look so certain. She glanced over at the window hesitantly, chewing on her lip.

“What are you thinking?” Rhaenys asked.

“If it would not be easier to leap from the window rather than face a lifetime of torture at Joffrey’s hands.” She answered bluntly, not bothering to lie.

Rhaenys stared at her with a horrified look.

“You cannot think of that, Sansa! What would Jon say if he knew?” she gasped.

Sansa looked back at her.

“I made my choice, Rhaenys. Even if Viserys does not execute your brother, I will never see him again. I will likely never see any of you. I will be a prisoner once again.” she said, a broken sound in her voice.

“You mustn’t do such a thing. Not while there is still hope.” Rhaenys said.

Sansa looked doubtful at the mention of hope. Rhaenys was quick to admit to herself that, at the moment, it did not seem like there was much hope. But she had to have faith in her father and her brother. She had to keep Sansa safe and alive so that when they got the chance to leave, Jon would have her in his arms again.

“If I see you anywhere near that window, I will tie you down to a chair,” she said forcefully, clenching down on her hand. “Promise me, Sansa.”

Sansa stared at her with her blue eyes dull and unhappy but she nodded nonetheless.

“I promise.” She whispered.

Rhaenys relaxed against her chair, knowing that she could not lose another person. Not after what happened to Aegon. She didn’t realize that she was crying until Sansa stood and pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair soothingly.

**Jon**

When the Spider entered his cell this time, he was more prepared. The fire lit up and Varys crouched next to him once more, a hood drawn up over his head. He pushed a skin of water into his hands and Jon drank from it eagerly.

“Careful, dear prince. Many men go thirsty down here. You may want to save it.” he warned.

Jon forced himself to stop, resting his head against the stones as his body filled with relief at the sustenance.

“Word is spreading throughout the seven kingdoms of what is happening here. Dorne is preparing to fight for your father and stepmother. The Baratheons are not siding with the Lannisters, as everyone expected. I think that they forget that Stannis is not a supporter of the lions and would rather see them burned in their gold mines.”

Jon frowned at his words. He heard from his father that the Baratheon armies would be allying with the Lannisters.

“His nephews and niece are as much Baratheon as they are Lannister.” He said with confusion.

“Are they?” Varys replied cryptically.

His words muddled his mind even more and Jon huffed, deciding that he was done with the Spider’s riddles.

“Stannis is choosing to remain out of the war for now but I think, if pushed, he would ally with your father.” The Master of Spies continued.

“How is my father to ally with anyone when he is trapped in a black cell?” Jon demanded.

“That is a tricky situation.” Varys sighed.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the man.

“You clearly have ways of getting in and out of here. You could help us escape.” He said accusingly.

“Indeed I could. The question is, will I?” the older man said.

Jon jerked against his chains, his lip curling with fury.

“I would wrap my hands around your throat if I could.” he growled, losing all quiet patience the longer he remained in the black cells.

At the moment, all he could feel was his blinding fury and Varys was the only one there who could bear the brunt of it.

“That is hardly what to say when you wish a man to help you, my prince. Surely your father taught you better.” Varys said.

“If you want to speak to someone who will entertain your riddles, go and speak to my father. I am done listening to your cryptic words.” Jon said harshly, turning his head away.

Varys clucked his tongue and the light went out.

“The people of the North would pledge their banners if they had a strong figure to rally around. I wonder if a half-northern prince would be just that. After all, you are the heir to the throne now.” He said before disappearing.

Jon hated the sound of that. it was always Aegon who was the heir. It did not matter how many council meetings that Jon attended or how much he paid attention in his lessons. His brother was always meant to be king after their father. And now he was dead.

“They would rally around Sansa.” He murmured.

Jon closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he envisioned the dream that he often had. He sighed softly as he saw her running next to him. Sometimes she was a grey and white direwolf. Sometimes her red hair was streaming behind her and she was holding his hand tightly as she whispering loving words to him. But either way, she was right there with every step and that was enough to take the pain of his loss away for just a few moments.

When the guards came and opened his cell, Jon wondered if his uncle finally decided to put him to death. He staggered and slumped as they forced him to walk, the weakness from not eating taking over his body.

“Where is my father?” he said hoarsely.

The answer to his question was a blow to his stomach and another shove forward. He knew that he was filthy and tattered from his time in the black cells. He did not care as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall. When he saw his uncle wearing his father’s crown, he started forward but a sword was drawn and held at his throat threateningly. He drew still, looking up at Viserys on the throne with a scowl.

“I never got the attraction to the Stark girl until now, young nephew,” Viserys said, looking at his hands with a bored expression. “After all, she is very naïve and simple, I think.”

His eyes flickered up to Jon to see his reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“But when I had a conversation with her, I saw a bit more spirit within her and I knew what you saw. Her fiery hair, her sharp tongue, those eyes… she would make a perfect queen.”

Jon jerked against the arms holding him still.

“Sansa would smother you on your wedding night.” He snapped.

“I rather think that I would fuck that rebellion out of her, nephew.”

The men around them laughed at the pretender’s words. Jon let out a growl and surged forward again, carelessly of the sword at his throat.

“But it’s no matter. I’ve promised her to another. My wish is to marry two wives as our great ancestor did. They won’t quite be sister-wives but I think that Daenerys and Rhaenys could be happy sharing the role.” Viserys said, standing up to walk down the steps towards him.

The pieces quickly fell into place for Jon and he couldn’t help but wonder how long his uncle had been planning this. When he voiced his thoughts, Viserys flashed a twisted grin at him.

“For years, nephew. I planted the seed into everyone’s mind. ‘Rhaenys should not be married until she wishes it. If you want a match between her and Aegon, you will have to see how they grow up to be, as you did with Daenerys and I.’ I had every man whispering these words to the king, as I did the same. Even our sister believed it and advised our brother the same way. ‘Let her grow up into her own woman or she will never forgive you for marrying her so young.’ Rhaegar’s weak spots are always going to be those that he loves, you see. Especially his children.”

Viserys’s eyes flickered to a dark spot on the floor and Jon gritted his teeth, looking down to where his brother had died.

“It’s a shame that it’s so easy to exploit that weakness.” He said proudly, turning away.

“What do you want from me? Surely you did not bring me to gloat.” Jon said, hatred poured into every word.

The usurper nodded, taking the seat that did not belong to him once more.

“Bow down to me now, Jon. Do so and I will allow you your life. I will send you to Castle Black to live with our great uncle, Aemon. Everyone always wondered if you would do better in the North. You can test that theory for the rest of your days.” Viserys offered.

Jon lifted his chin proudly.

“The only king that I bow down to his my father, Rhaegar Targaryen.” He said challengingly.

“Then you will die.” Viserys threatened.

Jon swallowed hard, closing his eyes and picturing his sweet Sansa.

“Then I will die.” He answered.

He heard a crash and saw that his uncle had thrown a wine cup to the ground.

“You are a fool! Just like your father!” he shouted.

Jon simply smirked at him, knowing that Viserys’s reaction only made him look like the weak king that he would be.

“Take him back to the cells!”

The men who brought him tried to drag him away but two other gold cloaks with helmets on stepped forward, waving them away. They escorted Jon out with just as much manhandling, their hands gripping his arms tightly. As soon as they approached the Traitor’s Walk, they took him in through a different door rather than the one that led to the dungeons. Jon stared around with confusion before one of them pulled his helm off.

“Ser Barristan.” He said, looking at the knight with relief.

Once he removed the shackles from his wrists, the older man fell to his knee.

“I apologize for not coming sooner, my prince. I failed your brother and I will not do the same for you, if you will have me.”

Jon reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, nodding at him to rise.

“I would have you, ser, if it were my decision to make. You are of the Kingsguard and my father, the true king, must be the one to accept you or not.”

“I have already done so but he insisted upon asking you.”

Jon turned his head to surprise to see that the second armored man was his father as he pulled his helmet off to reveal his silver hair. They embraced tightly without a second thought.

“How did you get out of the cells?” Jon asked, looking at his father with confusion.

“There is only one man in this city who knows of the secret passages and apparently he’s decided to make his loyalties known, at least to us.” Rhaegar answered.

“Varys.” Jon whispered.

His father nodded, clapping his shoulder.

“We must go back into the tunnels before we are found, Your Graces.” Ser Barristan urged them, gesturing to a door.

Jon and his father went first, hurrying down stone steps into a damp tunnel with no end in sight.

“He said that he would meet us here, did he not?” the king asked.

“He did.” a voice said, stepping into the light.

They all turned to look at Varys, who gestured them to follow.

“I suppose this serves the realm.” Jon asked with frustration clear in his voice.

“It does indeed.”

“Where are you taking us?” he quested as they started to walk down the passageway.

“Do not fret, my prince. You will see your lady love soon enough.” Varys replied.

Jon’s glared at the Spider, wishing to strangle him once more. It would be easier now that he was not restrained. It seemed like they were winding through the tunnels for hours. Jon could not help but wonder how the Master of Whispers managed to memorize them, though he was grateful for it at the moment. When they ascended a set of steps and came out into a familiar room, they all gaped at Varys.

“I did not know that this was here.” Rhaegar said, glancing around his solar.

“Luckily for you, Your Grace, neither did anyone else,” Varys informed him. “The women are next door, if you wish to free them from their imprisonment.”

Ser Barristan looked willing but Jon and his father looked at him with disbelief.

“I’m not certain how you plan for us to free them with no weapons.” Jon said, pointing out the obvious fallacy in his words.

Varys simply stared at them before tilting his head towards Rhaegar’s desk. When they turned their heads to look, they were surprised to see their swords sitting on the dark wooden surface. Jon felt as things were going their way once again when his dominant hand was met with the familiar hilt of his weapon once more.

**Sansa**

As Rhaenys and Daenerys slept, Sansa sat with the queen at her fireplace. They sat in silence, both working on mending Rhaegar’s shirts that he sent to her to be fixed.

“He may not even wear these again.” Elia said, her voice hoarse from disuse.

It was the first time she’d spoken in four days. Sansa looked over at her with a hesitant expression.

“I’m sure that he will, my queen.” she said softly.

Elia turned her dark eyes on Sansa, doubt and sadness in them.

“I should have been praying, I know that. I am meant to pray for my husband’s survival, for my daughter as well. I should pray for his son to live. But I just can’t bring myself to pray to the gods who would take my son from me. Who would replace him with the son of Rhaegar’s second wife.”

Sansa didn’t reply, staring at her with wide eyes.

“I should not blame Jon for the faults of his father, I know that. But all that I see when I look at him is that woman. I see her in his face like she is haunting me from beyond the grave, reminding me that my husband fell in love with her and would have happily replaced me with her if she hadn’t died. I wonder if Aegon’s death is a punishment for us both from the gods. If he died because of Rhaegar’s relationship with Lyanna Stark and because of my refusal to accept and love her son.” Elia said quietly, focusing on her stitching once more.

Sansa took a deep breath, looking into the fire.

“I do not think that the gods, old or new, are punishing you. I think that bad things happen to people and there isn’t a reason why.” she said, concentrating on her own sewing so that she did not poke herself with her needle.

She felt the queen’s eyes on her but she didn’t look back.

“You were condemned to living away from your family for actions that were not your own. Do you not think that the gods were punishing your father by taking you away?” Elia asked.

Sansa hesitated, not knowing how the other woman would react to her true thoughts on the matter.

“I believe that the king was punishing my father. The gods had nothing to do with it.” she answered eventually.

She risked a look up at the queen to see her staring back with surprise, the only emotions Sansa had seen on her face other than sadness and exhaustion. Before she could say a word, they heard a crash outside of the door. A man yelled loudly and it was cut off suddenly, causing Rhaenys and Daenerys to both jerk awake. Sansa and Elia both stood, looking at the door with a fearful look. The other two hurried over, standing with them defensively. They heard the sound of swords clashing and men dying. Rhaenys reached back, grabbing one of the iron pokers. She shoved the other one into Daenerys’s hands and nodded at Sansa.

She reached down, drawing the dagger from beneath her skirts. She was very careful to conceal it until now so that it would not be taken away. All of them knew of Gregor Clegane’s reputation for the way he dealt with female prisoners and were not willing to allow that to happen to any of them. They weren’t sure if it was him coming through but if it was, they would be prepared. Queen Elia looked at the three younger woman with surprise. Sansa gripped the dagger in her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

When a body slammed against the door, they all jumped and took a step back at once. Finally, the door slammed open and they held their weapons up. A familiar face stepped through the door, his face splattered with blood and a sword clutched in his hand. They all relaxed as they recognized him.

“Ser Barristan.” Elia sighed, stepping forward with her hand over her heart.

“Your Grace.” He said, stepping into the room to bow to her. “Princesses, Lady Sansa.”

They all nodded at him, wondering if he was the only one to fight all the guards at their door.

“What have you heard of my husband, Ser Barristan?” Elia asked.

“And Jon?” Rhaenys threw in.

“Are they all right?” Daenerys questioned.

He smiled at them, looking weary but satisfied.

“Why don’t you ask them yourselves?” he said, stepping aside.

The king and his son walked in, making them all gasp. Rhaenys and Elia flew forward, sister embracing brother and wife embracing husband. They were both dirty and worse for wear but alive. Sansa could not move, she was rooted to the spot. Jon looked past his sister straight into her eyes, pulling away from Rhaenys. She let him go easily, moving to embrace her father after Daenerys hugged her brother. He walked to her but when Sansa broke from her shocked trance, she realized that it wasn’t fast enough for her.

She ran forward and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. Jon held her close, stroking her tangled hair and bringing her hand up to kiss it until she pulled away to look up at him with tear-filled eyes. An angry look came over his face when he saw the small cut and dark bruise on her face. He stroked it gently with his thumb and her eyes fluttered closed.

“We don’t have much more time before they realize that you are missing, Your Grace.” A voice said from the doorway.

They all looked to see Varys waiting there and Sansa wondered why he was with the others when he did nothing to stop Viserys from taking over.

“Where shall we meet you?” Rhaegar asked the Master of Whispers.

“Lady Sansa’s chambers.” Varys answered.

Jon and the king as well as Ser Barristan looked as though they understood though none of the rest of them did.

“Come.” Jon murmured, taking Sansa’s hand.

She did not say anything, following him out. Sansa stopped short, looking around the corridor. There were three men sprawled the ground and blood sprayed on the walls. Her eyes dropped to his sword that was sheathed in his waist. It was stained with the red liquid as well as his hands and face. Jon looked back at her, wondering if she would say anything. Sansa didn’t, nodding at him to lead her away. When they entered his chambers, she looked around with a pounding heart. She did not know if it was because of his appearance or the fact that it seemed that they were about to escape.

“I’ll get you some clothes.” Jon said.

She frowned with confusion, turning to face him.

“Clothes?” Sansa said, putting her hand on the dark wood of his four-poster bed.

Jon nodded, digging around in a trunk. He withdrew a white tunic, grey breeches, and a black jerkin as well as a long black cloak. He walked to her, handing them over. Sansa held them in her arms, looking up at him questioningly.

“You can’t go running from King’s Landing in your pretty dresses no matter how much I like them.” He said, stroking his hand over her uninjured cheek.

As Sansa processed the fact that they were truly escaping, Jon’s eyes flickered over to her cut.

“Did he do that to you?” he asked in a low voice.

Sansa didn’t answer, lowering her eyes.

“I’ve had worse.” She admitted.

Jon sighed, pulling her head up to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Never again.” He promised, pulling away to look into her eyes.

Sansa believed him somehow, knowing that Jon wouldn’t allow any harm to befall her if he could help it. Wordlessly, they both walked over to his water basin, relieved to see that it was still filled. Jon stripped off his jerkin and tunic, dropping them to the ground. Sansa tried not to stare as she rinsed her hair and splashed the cool water on her face. She combed her fingers through her locks before braiding them over her shoulder. When she glanced around, she flushed when she realized that there was no screen in Jon’s room to hide her as she dressed. Sansa looked at him over her shoulder to see him watching her.

“Can you unlace my dress?” Sansa asked.

Jon crossed to her, gently winding his fingers through the laces to yank them out until the dress fell loosely on her shoulders. Sansa was very aware of his proximity, taking a shuddering breath as she allowed the dress to fall from her body to pool on the ground at her feet. Jon inhaled sharply, lifting a hand to her neck, his thumb stroking over her soft skin. Sansa leaned back into him, letting her head fall to his shoulder as his other arm encircled her torso. His touch was hot through her shift, warming her entire body and causing heat to pool between her legs. Sansa shivered and placed her hand over his. When Jon pushed her shift off of one shoulder, she gasped and tilted her head to the side, trembling in his arms as he kissed over her neck and shoulder with gentle, open-mouthed kisses.

“Jon.” Sansa whimpered, reaching her hand up to slide into his curls.

The barrier was broken and he suddenly turned her around, capturing his mouth in hers. They kissed desperately, pouring their emotions into the touch of their lips. His tongue delved into her mouth and she let out a soft moan, clutching at his shoulders and pressing herself closer to him. Jon’s arms slid around her waist and hauled her up onto his table. When a loud crash sounded through room, they both froze and stared into each other’s eyes. Jon’s eyes were heavy-lidded and his pupils were so big that she could hardly see the dark grey.

“We don’t have time.” Jon sighed, pressing his forehead to hers.

Sansa stroked her hand down his back, relishing in the feeling of his smooth skin beneath hers and the twitch of his muscles at her touch.

“We will later.” She whispered, pulling away from him.

He let her down and Sansa reached for the pile of clothes as he picked up the empty flagon that had fallen. She turned away from him, pulling the breeches up over her legs and fastening them. They were too large for her slim hips but she slid the leather sheath from her leg and fashioned into a belt to keep them up. Sansa flushed as she lifted the shift over her head, very aware of Jon’s eyes on her bare back. She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw a burning heat in his eyes that sent shivers through her body. Sansa yanked the tunic on quickly before they got distracted, tucking it into the breeches. The jerkin was last, buttoning up to the valley between her breasts. Sansa looked down, knowing that no one would think she was a man if they saw her. If anything, the men’s clothing accentuated her figure rather than hiding it. She quickly pulled the cloak over her shoulders before turning to face Jon.

“My riding boots are in my chambers.” she said, watching as he buttoned his own leather jerkin.

“We’re going there anyway.” Jon responded, looking as though he was trying not to glance up at her.

Sansa nodded, putting the dagger into the sheath at her hip.

“I’m afraid, Jon.” She admitted, ashamed to be saying it.

He looked up at her, looking unsurprised at her words. His legs carried him over to her and he gathered her in his arms, pressed a kiss to her head.

“I am as well.” he said quietly, holding her close. “We’ll take care of each other.”

Sansa sighed, finding that she liked the sound of that arrangement. It made her feel much less worthless that Jon believed that she could take care of him. When he took her hand, they hurried out of his room. The floor was cold beneath her feet but she ignored it. When they reached her room, everyone else was waiting. Elia, Rhaenys, and Daenerys were dressed similarly to her. They looked at them knowingly, not fooled by their innocent looks. Sansa shoved her boots onto her feet and glanced around, knowing that she was ready to leave. She had her direwolf necklace around her neck and Jon by her side. Varys led them into her solar and pulled aside the direwolf banner to show a hidden doorway.

“Where does this lead?” Rhaegar asked.

“To your freedom, Your Grace. You remember where I told you to go?” Varys said, looking at Ser Barristan.

He nodded once, opening the door and leading them into the passage. The rest followed him, eager to get away from the castle and Viserys. Sansa clutched at Jon’s hand, hurrying along with him. It seemed like they were running for forever when they came across a small door.

“Be careful.” Ser Barristan warned before opening the door.

They all recoiled when a blast of wind hit them and they found that they were looking off of steep embankment out at the Blackwater Bay.

“What is this?” Jon asked, his eyes wide as he inched forward.

“There is a trail at the bottom of the embankment. This was the quickest way out of the city.” Barristan explained.

They went one-by-one, each of them moving slowly as the walked down the cliff-like surface. A few of them slid for a moment a couple of times but other than that, they all made it down safely. After heaving a collective sigh of relief, they made their way down the trail with the knight leading them. When they turned the corner to a small beach, they found their horses waiting on them as well as several other members of the Kingsguard. Sansa hurried to Myriah, a lump forming in her throat as she stroked her mane.

“I am so glad to see you.” she whispered.

Jon’s horse was beside hers and he walked over, standing next to her.

“What of Shae? Tyrion?” Sansa asked, looking up at him.

“Varys said that they are at his manse. They are safe.” Jon reassured her.

She felt relieved despite knowing that she would miss her handmaiden. As they mounted their horses, they all took a moment and looked up at the Red Keep, wondering if they would ever return. Then they were galloping away, leaving King’s Landing far behind.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal family finds a place to stay for the night and discusses what to do next. Jon is approached by his father and Sansa comes to a startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all absolutely wonderful and I wish that I could hug each and every one of you for making this story as much of a joy to write as it is. Thank you very much.
> 
> I meant for this chapter to be something entirely different but it sort of just turned out this way and I decided that I liked it. I hope that you do as well.
> 
> I am working off of the idea that Sansa is much more knowledgeable in some areas and less in others. When it comes to "the game", in my head she spent enough time with Tywin to know a few things about politics and enough around Jaime to know about war. But she did not have a septa or really any other woman in her life to help her through womanly things. This will come out quite a bit, in this chapter and in future chapters.
> 
> I feel compelled to let you know that when it comes to distances in Westeros, I am hopeless. I have tried to research it and figure it out but I haven't found anything that helps me at all. So if I end up being completely wrong about how long it takes to get from one place to another, I apologize.

**Sansa**

When they rode through the village this time, there was no welcoming crowd or shouted compliments. It was the dead of night and they were the only ones on the small dirt road. They all had their hoods pulled up despite the fact that the two who had to cover their hair to avoid being recognized were Rhaegar and Daenerys. When they arrived at the small inn, Ser Barristan started to insist that he be the only one to go in at first. After the gold cloaks restrained the Kingsguard and they failed to protect the royal family, the Lord Commander was willing to go above and beyond in his duty.

“Sansa and I should go.” Jon spoke up.

They all looked at him.

“The innkeep will recognize us without us having to announce that the royal family is staying here.” He continued.

Everyone looked at Rhaegar to see what he thought. He stared at his son for a moment before nodding once. Jon slipped off of his horse, helping Sansa to dismount before they walked inside, keeping their hoods up in case anyone recognized them. They slipped through the crowd of drunkards and tavern wenches with ease, spotting Timothy behind the bar serving up ale. Jon pushed through two men to get to the innkeeper, looking into his eyes.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

Timothy’s mouth fell open for a moment as he froze in his movements. His eyes slid past Jon to Sansa and she peered out from underneath her hood with wide blue eyes and a pleading expression.

“Aye, Your Grace, I remember.” He nodded.

“We have need of a safe, anonymous place. Do you think you could offer us such a comfort?” Jon questioned, sliding a gold dragon across the bar.

The man nodded quickly taking the money and dropping it into the coin purse tied at his waist.

“I have a room that I could give you.” he confirmed.

“We need more than one.” Sansa said, looking into his eyes with desperation.

Timothy looked at them with wide eyes.

“I have four to spare.” He offered.

They both looked at him with tight smiles, giving him the only gratitude that they could.

“Thank you, Timothy.” Jon said, nodding at the man.

When they went back outside, a nod was all that it took for the others to come in. They were ushered upstairs quickly with a promise for their meal to come to them. Sansa was put in the only room with two beds along with Rhaenys. Daenerys and Jon had a single bed and the king and queen a double. A maid came up a short time later with warm water for their baths. Sansa allowed Rhaenys to bathe first as she stared out of the window at the full moon. Neither of them spoke until they were dressed again and sitting in wait for the food.

“It all seems very real now.” Rhaenys admitted.

Sansa turned her head to look at the princess, wondering what she meant by it.

“In my mother’s rooms, shut away from everything, it was easy to trick myself into thinking that it was all a dream. I thought that if I did not act as though my brother was dead, that he would stroll in at any moment and smile at us all in that easy way that he did.” she continued, playing with the end of her long braid.

She sighed, reaching over to embrace her. Rhaenys buried her face in her shoulder. She didn’t make a noise but Sansa could feel her hot tears dampening the tunic that she wore. She whispered soft, soothing words and rubbed circles into her back very gently. When Rhaenys pushed herself away, her eyes were rimmed with red and she looked exhausted.

“I do not think that I will take my meal tonight.” She sighed, standing up and walking slowly to her bed.

Sansa watched as she curled beneath the blankets and faced the wall. She did not know what to do at first. Eventually, she stood as well and crossed to the door, blowing out each of the candles as she did so.

“I will take my meal somewhere else.” she said quietly.

She did not know where she would go until she saw that the maid and the innkeeper were outside of Jon’s room with several trays of food. Sansa closed the door behind her, nodding at Ser Barristan where he was guarding the king and queen’s room. When the door opened, Jon looked out at the two before his eyes flickered over to her. Sansa sighed lightly, giving him an exhausted and pleading look. She did not know what she was begging for but he seemed to understand.

“Two in here.” he said.

Sansa felt relieved, stepping forward to slip into the room after informing them that Rhaenys wouldn’t eat. They both sat at the small table, sipping at the hot stew in silence. She broke up pieces of the freshly baked bread, knowing that they must have been trying their hardest to impress the royal family. Sansa dipped them into the broth, eating them slowly as she watched Jon. His eyes were downcast and he looked like he was deep within his own mind as he chewed slowly. Sansa reached over to take his hand. She knew that he should not be alone with his thoughts.

“Jon.” she murmured.

He looked up at her and she saw that his grey eyes were swirling with emotion.

"We didn't speak again, after what happened in the sept. I never got to tell him... I never got to say..."

Sansa squeezed his hand gently.

"He knew, Jon." she assured him.

He ducked his head and let out a choked sob. Sansa stood up, walking around the table. Jon reached for her, spreading his thighs so that her slim body could fit between them. Jon buried his face in her stomach, holding onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Sansa buried her fingers in his hair, stroking the soft curls. Neither of them spoke as they embraced for a long time. Finally, Jon pulled away and Sansa noticed that his face was wet with tears. She brushed them away gently, feeling her heart break for him and his family. As with Rhaenys, she knew that sleeping might help keep away the sadness at least for a few hours.

“Come.” she said, taking his hand in hers.

Jon allowed Sansa to lead him to the bed, kicking his boots off along the way. Once he climbed on, she pulled the blankets over him and kissed him softly, stroking his cheek before turning away.

“Wait.” Jon caught her hand.

She looked back to see him staring up at her pleadingly.

“It was dark in the cells. I was alone for days. I don’t even know how long it was.” he said in a quiet voice.

Sansa looked at him sadly, sitting on the bed beside him.

“You’re not there anymore.” she said, carding her fingers through his hair.

He didn’t reply, closing his eyes tightly.

“The worst thing was the screams. They were below us and they hardly ever stopped. But when they did, the silence made me want to scream. And then I heard what Viserys was going to do to you, that we was going to give you back to…” Jon cut off as Sansa shivered at the reminder of what might have happened to her. “I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t do anything. I wondered if I was going to be there until I died and all I could see was my brother dead on the floor and you being dragged away from me.”

Sansa crouched beside the low bed, pressing her hand to his cheek.

“I’m right here, Jon. You got me away from there.” she said, brushing her thumb beneath his eye.

His eyes popped open and stared deeply into hers.

“Don’t… please don’t…”

His eyes flickered to the door and Sansa realized what he was saying. He was giving her a way out by not finishing the plea. She stood, kicking off her boots as well before sliding into the bed beside him. He sighed heavily as she pillowed his head over her chest and began stroking his hair once more. His arms slid around her body and held her tightly to him. _Just until he falls asleep_ , Sansa assured herself, _as soon as he does, I will leave and go to my own bed_. That was how she tricked herself into forgetting about how inappropriate it was for an unmarried maid to be in the bed of any man, much less an unmarried prince.

Sansa stared at the wall over Jon’s shoulder as she lulled him to sleep gently. When she felt the tension drain from his body and his breathing slowed, she knew that it was time for her to get up. She willed herself to push him away, closing her eyes. _I will count to five and then leave_ , she thought. Five turned into ten and then twenty and that was when she let out a huff. Sansa shifted in his arms and Jon pulled her closer, tightening his arms around her. She remained still, her eyes wide. _It’s not as though I could leave now if I wanted to. He’s holding me too tight and I’m not about to wake him up._

With that excuse in her head, Sansa allowed herself to relax and shut her eyes. She quickly found herself surrendering to her exhaustion and the warmth that Jon’s body provided. Sansa slid her hand into his hair and the other around his back before allowing herself to sleep.

**Jon**

When he woke up, his first thought that he felt warm. There was a soft body next to his and he instantly knew who it was. They were lying on their sides with his arms around her waist and her hands lying over his. Sansa's back was pressed into his chest and their legs were tangled together. Jon turned his head, burying it in her soft hair. She shifted, letting out a contented sigh. He smiled at how good she felt against him until he realized that it was almost too good. His eyes flew open and he tensed up as he realized the rather hard problem that was currently pressed against her backside.

Jon tried to pull away from her but she held him tighter, not wanting to lose his warmth next to her. Sansa moved in her sleep and pressed back against him even closer. He let out a loud groan at the friction against his groin, his cheeks feeling hot. That was when she woke up. He felt it when her body tensed as she became aware of what was happening. Sansa took a deep breath, her hands moving away from his to clench in the blankets. He saw that her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth.

“Sansa…” he began, wincing at how deep and wanting his voice sounded.

That was when she moved away from him, staggering out of the bed to stand upright. The sight of her wearing his trousers and tunic didn’t help at all. Jon turned to his back and threw his arm over his face, wishing to be anywhere else at the moment. He felt her eyes on him and looked over to see that she was flushed and breathing heavily. Before he could apologize, she was shoving her boots on and brushing her hair out of her face.

“I should go, ser… my lord… my prince…” Sansa let out a huff, shaking her head as she straightened up. “Jon.” she finally said, looking into his eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t really find the words to say, not about this. When he saw the conflicted look in her eyes, he knew that she couldn’t figure out what to say either. Sansa seemed to silently decide something and she lunged forward, putting her hands on either side of his face. When her lips captured his in a deep kiss and she stroked her fingers through his hair, Jon let out a soft groan against her mouth. Heat shot straight to his lower half as Sansa nibbled at his lower lip before pulling away.

Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her. As he stared at it with wide eyes, Jon suddenly got the feeling that she was as affected by his body against hers as he was. The thought made him tremble with desire as he threw himself out of bed to splash cold water from the bath on his face. When it didn’t help, Jon latched his door and stripped his clothing off, submerging his entire body in the water. It did the trick, cooling his burning body as he gripped at the sides. He laid his head back against the edge of the tub, trying to think of anything other than the way that Sansa felt in his arms.

**Sansa**

She knew that she must be quite a sight when she opened the door and closed it behind her just as quickly, leaning back against it with her eyes squeezed shut. She tried to think of anything other than what just happened, her hands forming fists. Sansa dug her nails into her palms as she took deep, steady breaths.

“Are you all right?”

Her eyes flew open and she looked at Rhaenys where she was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed beneath her. She was eating out of a bowl of porridge and Sansa noticed that there was one waiting on her as well.

“Yes, I’m fine.” she answered, trying to ignore the warm heat between her thighs as she took up a similar position as the princess.

Sansa ate slowly, blowing the steam away from the food. She glanced up at her friend, noting her red eyes and pale appearance.

“You slept elsewhere last night.” Rhaenys said, looking at her with a slight smile.

She flushed once more, ducking her head to stare at her food as if it was more interesting than anything at the moment.

“I did not intend to.” She muttered.

“It’s hardly ever intentional, Lady Sansa.” the princess said, clearly amused.

Her eyes flew up and she felt horrified, shaking her head intently.

“No, it’s not… we didn’t do anything like that.” Sansa said quickly, the words rushing out of her mouth.

“Oh, well good,” Rhaenys said, hiding her smile behind a cup of wine. “I was going to have to speak with my brother.”

Sansa turned even redder at the thought but the princess seemed to sober at the mention of her brother. Her smile faded and she set the porridge aside, standing up. It was only when she crossed to the door that they heard an urgent knock. They shared a look before Rhaenys reached out to open it.

“Come.” Ser Barristan said.

They followed without question, seeing the alarmed look in his eyes. Rhaegar, Elia, and Jon were already hurrying down the stairs behind Timothy. The tavern was empty except for the maid, who was sweeping with wide eyes. Outside, they could hear the stamping of horses and men shouting.

“The city watch has come. They are searching every town in the Crownlands.” the knight said.

The innkeeper led them down into his cellar and pushed a pile of wooden crates away, pulling a hidden door up out of the ground.

“Please, Your Graces.” He said, gesturing into it.

They all climbed into the large hole was dug beneath the inn, sitting down on the dirt. Ser Barristan climbed in as well, ready to defend them if necessary. Timothy gave them his best attempt at a reassuring look before he closed the door. A dusting of dirt fell on them as he dragged the crates back over them and hurried back up the steps. They all remained silent, not even daring to breathe heavily in case someone heard. Sansa jumped slightly when she felt a hand sliding into hers but then relaxed, leaning into Jon and burying her face in his shoulder. His rough hand slid over her cheek and his thumb stroked her skin soothingly.

They heard when the guards entered the inn. When the sound of glass smashing reached their ears, Sansa winced and hoped that they would not ransack the place for the kind innkeeper’s sake. When they heard heavy footfalls descending the stairs, they all held their breath. Even more dirt fell on them as two men stomped around.

“No one down here!” one of them shouted up the stairs.

When the other kicked the crates over that were above them, Sansa froze in fear. They simply laughed, making their way up the stairs again. It was a long time before Timothy came back down and pushed the crates out of the way and lifted the door.

“They left. They’re moving north towards Antlers and east towards Duskendale and Maidenpool.” He said as the men climbed out first.

They helped Sansa, Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Elia out and once they were on solid ground, everyone looked at Rhaegar.

“They are keeping us from fleeing to Dragonstone.” Jon said.

“It is the best place for us to go. Our most loyal bannermen are there.” the king said.

Sansa remained silent, brushing the dirt out of her hair.

“We can’t continue like this, Rhaegar,” Elia said quietly, looking at him sadly. “They will take all of our heads if they find us.”

“We need defenders. We need an army,” Daenerys threw in. “We are Targaryens and should not have to hide in cellars. We should be fighting.”

“Where do you suggest that we find an army when we can’t get to the men who would fight for us?” the king demanded.

Sansa lifted her head, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Riverrun.” she said quietly.

They all looked at her, wondering why she spoke the name of her mother’s birthplace.

“They will not expect for you to go West since it is in the direction of Casterly Rock. With my Tully looks, there is a good chance of us being able to pass through without issue. We can avoid the Kingsroad or any other larger roads.” she continued, praying that she did not sound like a ridiculous little girl.

“There will be less gold cloaks for us to run from and when they see that you are not mad like Tywin Lannister is trying to make you out to be, they would be more likely to support you. You will have your army.” Jon said, agreeing with her.

She gave him a grateful look. No one spoke for several moments but Ser Barristan was the first to break the silence.

“That is all a big risk to take for ‘likely’. If they decide that they like the feel of Lannister gold better than loyalty to their king, then we will be taken straight back to King’s Landing by that army.”

Sansa shook her head, refusing to believe it.

“Family, duty, honor. Those are the Tully words. I am their family, no matter how tenuous that link is. Their duty is to the realm and to their true king, they will keep to that. Their honor will bid them to do what is right and supporting a mad usurper is not honorable. I have faith that they will come through. My mother’s brother has already met me and I can send him a raven asking for men to meet us halfway so that we will not have to make the entire journey alone.” Sansa said, wanting to prove that she was not helpless in this flight from King’s Landing.

She could help the royal family in their time of need as they helped her.

“And if that raven flies into the wrong hands?” Daenerys asked, looking torn between agreeing with her and refusing to believe her words.

“That is a chance that must be taken.” Sansa replied.

They all looked at Rhaegar, waiting to see what he would say of her idea.

“It is the best option that we have, Father.” Rhaenys said, breaking in to support Sansa’s argument.

“It would only take a moon and a half at the most.” Jon agreed.

Rhaegar remained silent, thinking over their words. As she studied him, Sansa noted that both he and the queen had similar exhausted and devastated looks. They had mourned the death Aegon the previous night as well. She felt horrible for pushing them, knowing that they should be able to have time to grieve.

“Husband?” Elia pushed when the silence stretched on.

He nodded once, looking up at his children.

“We will travel to Riverrun.” Rhaegar agreed.

Sansa relaxed along with the others, relieved to have a destination and a plan.

**Jon**

As his father and the queen spoke with Timothy and gathered the supplies that he offered him, Jon crossed to the stables to ready his horse. He entered and stopped short when he saw Sansa brushing her mare’s mane softly, murmuring gentle words in the horse’s ear. Her eyes flickered up to him and Jon was reminded of what happened earlier that morning. Sansa must have remembered it as well judging by her pink cheeks as she turned away to put the brush down.

“About this morning…” he began.

Sansa shook her head without facing him.

“Truly, Jon, there is no need to mention it.” she assured him.

“There is, I must apologize.” Jon pushed, stepping forward.

“Don’t. It is not as though you can control… that.” Sansa said, tilting her head around to glance at him.

His eyebrows rose when he saw the small smile on her face.

“You think it humorous?” he said with disbelief.

“Only a little.” she said, her smile widening.

Jon found the corners of his lips turning up. Sansa stepped back, recognizing the glint in his eye. He darted towards her and she let out a gleeful laugh, turning to run out of the other end of the stables. Jon caught her around the waist before she could get far, pulling her back against his chest.

“It’s rather rude to find enjoyment in a man’s pains.” he murmured in her ear.

Sansa shivered in his arms and turned her head towards his.

“I apologize, my prince. In the future, I shall have much more sympathy for your pains.” She said teasingly, reaching up to stroke her thumb over his lower lip.

Jon took it between his lips and nipped at it with his teeth. Sansa giggled and turned in his arms, pulling his face down to hers. Their kiss was deep and filled with passion. Jon urged her closer, his hands gripping her slim hips. Sansa’s arms slid around his shoulders and she pressed her body against his. Sansa let out a soft whimper against his mouth and it spurred him on. His lips moved along her jaw as his hands slid up her back. Before his lips could slide to her throat, Sansa’s hands slid into his hair and pulled on the strands. Jon’s head tilted back and he let out a gasp when her mouth trailed over his collarbone. She smiled against his skin and pushed herself onto her toes, pressing a kiss over his fluttering pulse as her hand ran through his hair.

“Gods, Sansa.” He groaned.

Before he knew it, Jon was pressing her against the wall of the stables and kissing her with fervor. Sansa gripped at his shoulders, her soft body melding to his effortlessly. Despite the chill of the morning, her body radiated heat and he was certain that his felt the same. Jon wrenched himself away from her, bracing his hand against the wall as he kept his eyes closed tightly. He tried to control his breathing as well as his body’s reaction to her proximity but neither attempt seemed to work for him. Sansa reached up, putting her hand over his racing heart as she breathed just as heavily.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered.

Jon’s eyes opened and he stared down at her, seeing confusion and shame in her eyes.

“For what?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Sansa frowned, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, her eyes moving away from his. “For making you feel this way, I think.”

Jon would have laughed if this situation didn’t feel so serious.

“Sansa, there are a lot of things that you make me feel and absolutely none of them are bad or wrong.” He said, stroking a hand over her cheek.

When she looked up at him with even less understanding, Jon felt a heavy realization settling in his heart. Before he could voice his concern, they heard someone entering the stables. He turned his head and Sansa peeked around him to see his father there with two Kingsguard members shadowing him.

“Your Grace.” Sansa said, looking uncertain as she slipped out of Jon’s arms.

“My apologies, Lady Sansa. Might I have a few moments to speak to my son?” he asked.

She didn’t look at Jon before nodding, the red flush in her cheeks clearly showing her embarrassment at being caught in that situation by the king. Sansa hurried past his father and back towards the inn, leaving Jon there feeling like a child beneath his father’s gaze.

“You have been spending quite a bit of time with her.” Rhaegar said, fiddling with the collar of his tunic.

Jon recognized the motion for what it was. His father was just as uncomfortable in this situation.

“Yes.” He said simply.

Rhaegar sighed, looking at him with a tired glance.

“You are my heir now, Jon. You will have to make many decisions in the future and you do not have the luxury of living according to your heart. You must do what is best for the realm.”

His heart sank when he realized what his father was saying.

“Sansa is offering to help us take your throne back.” he reminded him.

“And seventeen years ago, her father was fighting to take my throne away. You cannot forget the past, my son.”

Jon shook his head, stepping forward.

“Lord Stark was fighting for his sister when he believed that you kidnapped her. But you fell in love with her and followed your heart.” He said angrily.

Rhaegar nodded in agreement, not denying his words.

“It seems that the Targaryen men have a weakness for Stark women. But you should do better than me. You should remind yourself that what is best for you may not be best for the realm. You must decide what type of king you will be and if you will put a woman above your people.”

Jon felt a stab of fury deep within his chest.

“Is that what everyone told you about my mother?” he demanded.

His father didn’t reply, staring at him sadly. Jon turned to walk out of the stables, no longer wanting to be a part of this conversation.

**Rhaenys**

When Jon stomped into the inn and headed straight upstairs, she and Sansa both looked after him.  
“Perhaps you should go.” Rhaenys said, glancing at her.

She looked wary, looking down at her hands.

“I think he needs his sister more than me right now.” Sansa replied.

Rhaenys frowned at her but moved towards the stairs and climbed them quietly. She slipped into Jon’s room to see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Once she sat beside him, she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t want this.” he said quietly.

“I know.” she sighed.

Jon looked up at her with a conflicted look in his eyes.

“There is too much happening, sister. I admit that I do not know what to do.” He said.

“None of us do, dear brother. We shall have to figure it out.” Rhaenys said, reaching down to take his hand.

He turned his head away from her, glancing out of the window.

“Father told me that I have to think of what is best for the realm now.” He said, his free hand curling into a fist

She understood immediately. There was only one thing that could rile Jon up to such a fury other than Viserys himself.

“He wants you to stop seeing Sansa, doesn’t he?” Rhaenys asked.

Jon jerked his head in a confirmation, his jaw clenching.

“That’s rich, coming from him.” she sighed.

The corner of his mouth twitched and she smiled slightly, bumping her shoulder into his.

“You could always steal her and go far away from here.” She suggested, only half jesting with him.

Jon looked over at her with raised eyebrows, clearly wondering if she was serious. When he saw the teasing glint in her eyes, he relaxed a bit.

“You just want to be the heir.” He said.

Rhaenys broke out into laughter, quickly realizing that it was the first time she’d laughed since Aegon died. When she looked over at Jon, she saw that he was smiling at her.

“I do not wish to take your place, brother. I do not envy the decisions that you must make.” Rhaenys said, her smile fading slightly.

His disappeared completely as he sighed heavily.

“I never thought that I would have to fight in a war. I suppose that was naïve of me.” Jon said, staring down at his hands.

“No one would blame you for not wanting to fight in a war, Jon. Not when the last one is fresh in the minds of so many people in Westeros. If the only thing that makes this bearable is Sansa by your side, then do not give into any attempts to remove her from you. Just because you might be a king one day doesn’t meant that you have to give up every happiness in life. Besides, if our father really wishes to think of the good of the realm, he will realize the two of you could truly unite the North and the South for the first time in years.” She said.

He looked at her with gratitude, pulling her in to kiss her forehead.

“Thank you, sister.” Jon murmured.

She simply smiled at him. As Rhaenys stood to leave him in privacy, he called to her once more.

“Could you talk to her? To Sansa?” he asked.

“About what?” she replied.

His cheeks colored and he glanced away from her, looking embarrassed to be speaking of it with her.

“Sansa is… innocent. More innocent than most women, even you. If you could help her, perhaps talk to her about things. Womanly things and… intimate things.” he said.

Rhaenys’s eyebrows flew up as she crossed her arms over her chest. He looked over at her and balked, his eyes widening.

“Not because of… I do not wish to benefit from such an arrangement. Sansa was forced to grow up without a septa to tell her of these things and I doubt that Cersei Lannister was so kind as to explain them to her. I get the feeling that she does not know how some of it works and I thought that you could… well I just…”

She held up her hand with a laugh, taking pity on her poor brother.

“Calm yourself, Jon. I will speak to her soon.” Rhaenys assured him.

Jon looked relieved that he did not have to speak anymore. She let out another laugh as she left the room, finding some amusement in teasing him.

**Sansa**

As they prepared to leave, she was relieved to see that Jon was no longer angry. He looked quite relaxed after speaking with his sister. Sansa approached her saddled horse with a careful expression, glancing at him over Myriah. Jon was watching her with a tender expression, almost making her knees buckle beneath her at the soft gaze in his eyes. She watched as he walked around their horses and gathered her into his arms gently, pressing a long kiss to her lips. Sansa melted in his arms, clutched at his back to keep herself upright as he kissed her as tenderly as he looked at her. The deep and passionate kisses were very enjoyable but she found that she liked the way that he kissed her like this. It was so different from the kisses that Joffrey forced upon her.

When he pulled away from her, there was a small smile on his face. He stroked a hand down her cheek and kissed her forehead before turning away. Sansa didn’t miss the almost challenging look he threw at his father and wondered what that was about. Once she was mounted onto her horse, she turned and favored Timothy with a smile.

“We are deeply within your debt and we will repay it one day.” Rhaegar vowed to the innkeeper.

The man simply bowed, looking overcome by his words. They took off from the village, their hoods drawn up and their horses moving quickly. Sansa felt overcome by emotion as she realized that she was much closer to her family than she’d been in years, not counting the few days that she was able to spend with her uncle. The knowledge made her heart quicken and a small smile come to her face. With any luck, she would see her mother and father as well as her siblings before the year was out.

Her eyes flickered over to Jon and she couldn’t help but wonder if her family would love him as much as she did. At the thought, her face went pale and she looked away from him, her eyes wide. That was the first time that Sansa had thought of the word but now that she had put it in the same sentence as the prince, she knew that it was undeniably true. It was all that she could think of him as they rode towards the Riverlands. Sansa was breathless with the realization, wondering how she hadn’t known it before. _What am I going to do?_ The question echoed in her mind again and again as they raced across the ground. Sansa truly had no clue of where to go from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. Your comments are all wonderful.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa falls sick as they travel to Riverrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure how I feel about this chapter. They aren't all going to be great and I think this is one of the not great ones. I needed a chapter that showed them on the road but I couldn't figure out how to do it right. This is what came out and, though it is not as good as it could be, I spent too long trying to make it better and nothing else is coming to me. So I hope you do not judge me too harshly for the quality of it.

**Sansa**

Her first experience with bandits came a fortnight after their departure from King’s Landing. For some reason, she felt horrid as they began a long day of travel. It was normal for them to ride from early in the morning until just before the sun set below the horizon. She suffered in silence, determined not to let anyone else think of her as weak. It wasn’t until Rhaenys noticed the tears running down her face that she called for the others to stop. Sansa staggered off of her horse, not even waiting for someone to help her down.

She ran to the side of the road and braced her hand against one of the trees, expelling the contents of her stomach until she was dry heaving and tears were running down her cheeks. There were two people on either side of her and she could easily guess who they were. Rhaenys held her hair away from her face as Jon rubbed soothing circles into the back of her neck. Sansa leaned into his arms, pressing her head against his chest as her body trembled.

“We cannot linger, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan warned the king.

“Give her a moment.” Rhaenys and Jon said at once.

Sansa felt gratitude towards them and knew that she would voice it as soon as she regained the ability to speak. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a shaking breath, turning away from the tree. Jon slid his hand into hers, helping her towards the road. Rhaenys hurried towards her horse and grabbed a skin of water, rushing back to Sansa to hand it over. She pulled the top off but before she could take a drink, she saw movement in the shadow of the trees on the other side of the road. She gripped Jon’s hand tightly, her eyes widening when a dirty man stepped out. Jon looked up and his other hand immediately went to his sword. Two more men stepped out and they heard cracking behind them, turning to see four others advancing on them. Rhaegar and his three guards all leapt off of their horses and drew their own swords.

“Get back.” Jon warned, stepping in front of Sansa and his sister.

She fumbled for the dagger at her hip as Rhaenys pulled her back. As the men drew their axes and swords, Jon leapt forward and engaged with them. They heard the clanging of steel as they were fighting. Sansa turned with Rhaenys, darting towards their horses. Elia and Daenerys remained mounted on their horses, watching the movement around them with startled expressions. Just as Sansa pulled out her dagger, she heard Jon let out a panicked shout. Rhaenys cried out next to her just as a large hand wrapped around her arm. Sansa whirled around, recoiling at the stink of the man who was bearing down on her. He held a dagger to her throat and she swallowed hard, her head swimming and her breath coming out in sharp gasps.

Sansa writhed in his grip, trying to yank herself away. He held on tighter, pressing his blade closer to her skin. She reacted violently, shoving her hands towards him to push away. He let out a grunt of pain and she felt hot liquid dripping onto her hand. Sansa looked down with horror at the dagger protruding from his gut. She let go of him, staggering away as she pulled the blade from his stomach. He coughed and blood dribbled out of his mouth. His eyes rolled up towards her, his stare cutting her deep as he fell onto his knees and slumped to his back.

She did not know what was going on around her as she watched the scarlet liquid spread slowly across his dirty tunic. Her heartbeat roared in her ears as she stared at the man. Rhaenys was speaking next to her but she had no idea what she was saying. When Sansa saw someone approaching, her eyes flashed up to him as she expected another attack. Jon held his hands up and she realized that she was in a defensive position, the bloody dagger held out in front of her.

“He’s going to die slowly if we leave him like this, Sansa.” Jon said carefully.

She dropped the blade, feeling horrified at her actions once more. He walked to the man’s side, picking the dagger up. Sansa watched as he drove it into the man’s heart. Her eyes flickered up and she watched the light in his eyes fade away. Jon withdrew the dagger and cleaned it off on his tunic. He turned towards her and his expression changed to one of panic. As he reached towards her, Sansa realized that she was swaying on the spot. The last things she saw before darkness took over were her bloodstained hands.

**Jon**

He caught her as she slumped towards the ground, easing her down as he held her towards his chest. Sansa’s head lolled against his shoulder and she looked even paler than before.

“What’s wrong with her?” their father asked, cleaning his sword off.

His sister gave him a severe, unimpressed look.

“Not everyone is as used to killing as you.” Rhaenys said, kneeling next to him and brushing Sansa’s hair away from his face.

“She was sick before the men attacked.” Jon reminded her.

She sighed, looking up at him with an impatient glance.

“Your Grace, please…” one of the guards began.

He knew what the man was going to say and his face adopted an angry expression.

“We cannot move away from here unless you mean to make her ride while unconscious. It is doubtful that there are more bandits nearby and if they are, we will deal with them.” he said in a tight voice.

No one dared argue with him, not even his father. When Sansa stirred several minutes later, Rhaenys urged him to keep her still as she held the skin of water to her mouth. Sansa drank of it slowly with her eyes closed. When she pushed it away, Jon saw a rivulet of water dripping down her chin. He wiped it away gently and her eyes fluttered open, the bright blue pools gazing up at him.

“Are you all right to stand?” he asked, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. Jon picked up her dagger, sliding it back into the sheath at her hip. She watched on warily as if it was a cursed object. He noticed that her eyes were steadily avoiding the man who attacked her and laid dead for his efforts. As she tried to climb up onto her horse, her shaking body faltered and she fell back into his arms again.

“Do you want to ride with me instead?” Jon asked.

She hesitated before nodding, almost looking ashamed of herself. Jon helped her onto his horse and tied her mare to his saddle. He lifted himself up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold onto the reigns. Sansa leaned back against his chest, closing her eyes with a sigh. Jon looked over at his father, who was watching them with a strange look.

“We should stop at the next inn for her to rest.” he said.

“No, I’m fine.” Sansa protested weakly despite the fact that she could hardly hold herself up.

“She’s not. I agree that we must stop, Father.” Rhaenys said.

Sansa’s eyes peeked open and Jon fought back a laugh as she gave his sister a look as though Rhaenys was betraying her.

“It is only a three day ride to the meeting point with Edmure Tully, Your Grace. He will be expecting us.” Ser Barristan reminded him.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the Lord Commander that he usually had the highest amount of respect for. At the moment, he simply wanted to knock him off of his horse.

“He can wait,” Rhaegar decided, looking at Jon and the pale redhead in his arms. “Lady Sansa is unwell. I am certain they will not appreciate us forcing her to travel in such a condition.”

The knight had nothing more to say and they continued on with an understanding that the next inn that they found would serve as a resting point. Sansa never fell asleep in his arms but her eyes remained closed as they rode, her hands laid over his that were gripping the reigns. When she whimpered in pain at every rough jolt, Jon pressed kisses to her neck until the tension in her body drained away. He sighed with relief when they saw a town in the distance. They rode straight to the inn, Ser Barristan entering first to ensure them as many rooms as they would need. Jon slid off of the horse first before helping Sansa down.

When she slumped into him, he lifted her up to cradle her in his arms. She didn’t protest anymore, simply letting out a mumble of thanks as he entered the inn with Rhaenys close behind him. The innkeeper directed them towards the stairs and Jon ascended them slowly. He laid her in the first bed of the room that he saw. As soon as she was covered in a blanket, Rhaenys and Daenerys both ushered him out, listening to none of his protests.

“She needs to be cared for. As kind as you are, dear brother, you will be of no help unless you have been trained in the Citadel without our knowledge. This is a woman’s work.” Rhaenys said gently before shutting the door in his face.

Jon could only imagine the stricken look on his face as he stared at the wood before turning away. His father and stepmother ascended the stairs, both of them glancing between him and the door.

“You should rest.” Rhaegar suggested.

He hesitated before shaking his head, sinking down onto the floor to sit outside of Sansa’s room.

“I’m fine here.” Jon decided.

“Of course you are.” His father agreed as if expecting his response.

As they walked towards their own room to shut themselves up as they’d been doing every night, the queen glanced back at Jon with a sympathetic look.

**Rhaenys**

Sansa did not take long to fall into a fitful sleep. It was only when her eyes were closed and her body relaxed that Rhaenys noticed the temperature of her body.

“We need water and towels.” she decided.

Daenerys reached out, touching her hand to Sansa’s forehead. Alarm flickered over her face and she nodded once in agreement. Rhaenys watched as she went to the door and wrenched it open. As she started to walk out, Daenerys stopped short and sighed at something she saw. Past her, Rhaenys watched as Jon scrambled to stand, a questioning look on her face.

“If you insist upon staying here, you can at least help us. We need towels and a pail of lukewarm water from the innkeeper.” Daenerys said.

Her brother nodded instantly, looking willing to do anything that could help. Rhaenys smiled slightly, looking down at Sansa’s face. Her amusement disappeared as soon as she saw her scarily pale skin.

“Hurry, Jon.” she whispered.

He came back as quickly as he could, carrying the heavy pail in to set it beside the bed. Daenerys took the stack of towels and shooed him towards the corner of the room. Rhaenys knew that he was relieved not to be banned from the room this time. They dabbed at her forehead with the water, hoping to bring down the burning temperature of her body. After a long time, Rhaenys decided that this was helping nothing. Daenerys seemed to come to the same conclusion as she straightened up.

“She must be submerged in the water. Perhaps that will bring the fever down.” she suggested.

Rhaenys nodded in agreement, pulling the sheets off of her body. Daenerys hurried out to get a maid to fetch them more water for the bath.

“I need your help, Jon.” she said, glancing at him.

He stepped forward, looking uncertain.

“Do you want me to fetch your mother?” he asked, knowing that Sansa was about to bathed.

“Do you want to help her or not?” Rhaenys countered.

He didn’t protest again, crossing the room to her.

“Hold her up while I take off her jerkin and tunic.” she instructed.

They both eased her up to a sitting position and Sansa stirred, letting out a weak protest. Rhaenys watched as Jon slid onto the bed behind her, putting his legs on either side of her as he held her up.

“Shh, sweet Sansa.” he whispered in her ear, gathering her hair over one side of her neck.

He kissed at her skin as her eyes fluttered open. They were glassy with fever but she seemed aware of his presence behind her.

“Jon.” she sighed as Rhaenys quickly worked to get the jerkin undone.

They worked together to pull her arms through the holes and Rhaenys laid it across the bed. Jon was flushing, his cheeks light pink as she yanked the tunic out of the breeches where they were tucked in. When Sansa arched away from Jon and tried to get away from his touch, they both looked at her with confusion.

“Too hot.” she muttered, her words slurred.

Jon looked guilty though he could not control his temperature. Rhaenys sighed, dipping a towel in the water. She wrapped it around Sansa’s neck, drawing a pleased sigh from her. Daenerys reentered at that moment, followed by several others who were hauling in water. Rhaenys watched as they filled the tub until they deemed it enough. One of the maids set a thin, clean shift on the bed before hurrying out.

“Come, Sansa.” she said, wondering if they would need Jon for this part.

When she tried to pull her up, the younger girl allowed it, staggering to her feet. Daenerys and Rhaenys stood close to her, helping her to stand as they pulled the rest of the clothing from her body. When she glanced back at the bed, she saw that Jon was gone and the door was closing softly. They gingerly helped Sansa into the tub and she shuddered at the feeling of the water on her burning skin.

“Good?” Rhaenys asked, twining her hair into a bun at the crown of her head to keep it off of her neck.

Sansa didn’t respond, clutching her hands at the edge of the bath with more strength than Rhaenys thought that she had. She drew her knees to her chest and leaned forward, closing her eyes as she settled her chin on them. Daenerys gasped where she was on the other side of the tub and Rhaenys immediately knew what drew her eyes. She’d already seen the wounds on her back when they were healing and covered with bandages but it was much different than seeing them now. The scars were no longer pink and healing but they stood out nonetheless, silver on her smooth skin. They criss-crossed her back and some of them were longer and larger than others.

“I would burn him for this.” Daenerys hissed.

Rhaenys looked up at her aunt with surprise. She did not know that she felt so strongly protective of Sansa. In fact, she did not know of Daenerys’s opinion on the redheaded girl.

“What do you think of her, Aunt Dany?” Rhaenys asked with interest.

The silver-haired woman looked up at her with surprise. It was not often that she referred to her as aunt since they were so close in age.

“She is a sweet girl, perhaps a bit naïve but at the same time, she seems to have a bit of Northern ice in her as well. I do know that she can’t have done anything to deserve what was done to her.” Daenerys answered.

“And what of her and Jon?”

That questioned made the other woman frown as she glanced down at Sansa, who had a far off look in her fever-bright eyes. Rhaenys cupped her hand in the water, letting it trickle over her neck and back. Sansa let out a soft sigh, her eyes sliding closed in what she hoped was relief.

“They are very nice together but…”

Daenerys hesitated, glancing away from her.

“But?” Rhaenys prodded at her.

Her aunt sighed before looking back at her once more. Sansa seemed to have drifted off, one her hands slipping off the edge of the tub.

“Jon is heir to the throne now and he will be king one day. I wonder if it is smart for him to become so attached to a woman who’s greatest desire seems to be returning to the North. I know that my brother must intend to return her to Winterfell one day and it remains to be seen whether Lady Sansa will ever leave again once she rides through the gates of the castle. Will she be willing to choose Jon over her home and family?”

Rhaenys considered her words for a moment, glancing down at Sansa.

“Her aunt chose my father over Winterfell.” she said.

“And she did not last long. I wonder if perhaps removing the Starks from Winterfell brings about their death, no matter how slowly. For certainly, if Sansa was not taken from the Baratheon brat’s influence, she would not have been much longer for this world.” Daenerys said, gesturing to her scarred skin.

Rhaenys did not speak again as they continued bathing her. Once they decided that her skin felt a bit cooler, she shook Sansa awake and Daenerys helped her out of the tub as Rhaenys fetched her clothing and towels to pad her small clothes. They were slow and deliberate in helping Sansa dress, not wanting to exhaust her by moving too quickly. Once the shift was pulled over her head and clung to her skin, they helped her over to the bed. As soon as she was lying down, Rhaenys started to pull the blankets up but Sansa shook her head, shoving them away.

“Jon.” She whispered hoarsely.

She understood what she wanted and crossed the room as Sansa’s eyes slid closed and she took a deep breath. Rhaenys opened the door and saw Jon sitting there once more.

“You can come.” she said.

He leapt up and passed her in the doorway without another word. Sansa did not open her eyes yet she seemed to hear him coming, reaching her hand out towards him. Jon grabbed hold of a chair and pulled it over, sitting in it beside the bed. He took her hand in both of his and kissed it softly. Sansa let out a contented sigh and seemed to relax even more, turning her face towards him before slipping into unconsciousness once more. Rhaenys and Daenerys both left the room to rest themselves, leaving Jon alone with Sansa.

**Jon**

Two days passed before she woke again. He’d been by her side the entire time except for when his sister forced him to go to his room to sleep. As soon as he woke, Jon washed up and changed into fresh clothes before returning to her side. When her eyes fluttered open, they still had the brightness of fever within them. He reached towards the cup of water that was at her bedside, remembering that he was meant to have her drinking when he could. As he pressed the cup to her mouth, Sansa opened it a little and took a few slow drinks. He set it down, putting a hand on her forehead as he forgot about his own heat. She shivered and let out a small whimper.

“I’m sorry.” Jon said, yanking his hand away.

“No.” Sansa protested.

That was when he noticed that she’d been shivering ever since he woke up. Her body was still radiating heat but she shook like she was cold. He pulled the blankets up to her chin but it did not help. Jon stood and turned to hurry to the door. Rhaenys was dining with their father and her mother as well as Daenerys downstairs whereas he took his meal in Sansa’s room.

“Something’s wrong.” He said.

His sister and aunt followed him upstairs as soon as the words left her mouth. Sansa was staring at them as they hurried towards her, her trembling even worse. Rhaenys pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned, wondering why she was shaking.

“She’s worse when she should be getting better.” she muttered.

Jon did not like the sound of that at all.

“What do we do?” he asked.

Both women seemed at a loss, their frustrated looks reminding him that they were not maesters.

“Jon,” Sansa said in a hoarse voice, reaching for him once more. “So cold.”

He slid his hand into hers, watching as Rhaenys and Daenerys seemed to come to the same conclusion at once.

“Take your tunic off.” his sister instructed as his aunt stripped the blankets away.

Sansa shuddered violently and let out a cry at the loss of warmth.

“What?” Jon said, his eyebrows flying up.

“You’re hot.” Daenerys said, brushing Sansa’s hair away from her face.

He did not know what they meant but he pulled the tunic over his head regardless, knowing that they probably had a plan in mind. Once he dropped it to the floor, he saw that they were gingerly turning Sansa onto her side.

“In.” Rhaenys said, gesturing to the bed.

Jon started to protest but they both looked at him with impatience and he knew that it was useless to argue. Jon slid into the bed behind her and glanced at the two women over his shoulder hesitantly.

“Gods help us, the one man in all of Westeros who is wary of wrapping his arms around a woman.” Daenerys sighed, yanking the blankets up around their hips.

He felt his cheeks burning as he slid his arms around Sansa’s overly warm body with a frown. Jon pulled her back against his bare chest and buried his face in her neck, ignoring the presence of his sister and aunt in the room. It wasn’t until the door closed that he realized that they’d left him alone with Sansa. She let out a nonsense murmur as she shook in his arms. Her shaking did not stop even with his warmth surrounding her. If anything, it became even more violent and he wondered if there was truly nothing else that could be done. Jon reached down, tugging the blankets higher. When Sansa spoke, he jumped in surprise as he thought that she was sleeping.

“In Winterfell, the walls are warm,” Sansa said, her voice low and breathless. “They are fed by the hot springs nearby. My mother’s chambers were always the warmest because she was not used to the cold. It is not cold in Riverrun.”

Jon didn’t know how to respond to her ramblings so he simply pressed a kiss to her neck.

“My father’s were cold but he had thick furs on his bed. I think I remember running to him once when I had a nightmare. I dreamt that a lion was clawing at me and leaving cuts all over my body. I think now that I was dreaming of the future, of Joffrey.” she whispered, letting out a violent tremor.

His body tensed at the mention of the eldest Baratheon child.

“Why do you think he was a lion?” Jon asked, wanting to distract himself from the fury coursing through his veins at the thought of Joffrey’s face.

“Hmm?” Sansa hummed in reply, sounding distant as if she was surprised that he was even there.

“You said he was a lion but Joffrey is a stag, like his father.” He reminded her.

She sighed, curling back into his body more.

“He looks so like Jaime.” Sansa sighed.

Jon frowned at her words, a thought tugging at the edge of his mind as if nagging at him to discover something. Before he could focus on the feeling, he felt Sansa go lax in his arms and knew that she was likely asleep. Jon sighed, pushing himself up on his elbow. The shift had fallen off one shoulder and he caught sight of a bruise peeking out of the collar of the thin white material. He pushed it lower to see that the bandit that she stabbed had been gripping her tightly enough to leave a darkened imprint of his hand. He felt another thrill of anger and Jon buried his face in Sansa’s hair to distract himself from the furious pounding of his heart. Jon fell into a fitful sleep with thoughts of lions and stags as well as beautiful maidens with hair like fire running through his head.

**Sansa**

When she pulled out of the hazy darkness of her dreams, her first thought was that she felt like she’d been set aflame. Heat surrounded her, almost like it was burning her from the inside out. Sansa’s eyes opened slowly and she felt more rested than she had in days. Vague memories floated through her mind of hearing Rhaenys and Daenerys talk, feeling cold water slide down her throat, and of Jon. His arms, his lips, his body. She suddenly realized that the source of her warmth was the prince himself. He was lying next to her with soft breaths escaping his mouth. Sansa felt his heart thudding beneath her palm that was placed over his bare chest.

She sat up slowly, looking down at him. Sansa winced, feeling as though she’d been beaten with a wooden stick and then dragged through the streets behind a horse. Her body was sore and exhausted but she ignored it in favor of staring down at Jon. His hair was messier than usual, the dark curls falling across the pillow on the narrow bed and over his eyes. Sansa reached up slowly, brushing the soft locks away from his forehead. Her hand drifted down his face, brushing over his eyelids and nose before lingering on his lips. They were light pink and soft, enticing enough that she resisted the urge to press her own lips to them.

His facial hair, longer than she’d ever seen it, scratched at her hand. Sansa ran her thumb over the coarse hair before letting her hand fall to his throat. She did not explore that area, moving her touch to his chest. Her post-sickness mixture of relief and exhaustion seemed to take away any shyness she might have felt in being caught touching Jon in such a way. She pressed her palm to his chest and felt his pulse thrumming beneath her touch. It was unusual for someone’s heart to be beating so quickly when they were asleep and Sansa’s eyes flashed up to his face, wondering if he was truly asleep or faking it to spare her the embarrassment of being caught.

As she pulled her hand away, his hand reached up to grasp it. Sansa gasped, jerking away from him. The arm wrapped around her waist pulled her closer and unintentionally dragged her on top of him. She breathed heavily, forgetting about any soreness in her body as she struggled to sit up where she was draped over him.

“Jon…” she began in a whisper.

He mumbled something unintelligible and she wondered if he was completely awake. Sansa pressed her forehead to his chest and felt his muscles quivering beneath her hands where they were braced on his abdomen. She moved around gently, not wanting to hurt him as she adjusted her legs to fit on either side of his hips. When Jon let out a strangled groan and his hand slid into her hair, Sansa froze and her eyes widened. She felt a familiar hardness pressing against her core and balked, her cheeks turning red.

Yet when Jon began to push her off, clearly returning to himself, her fingernails dug into his skin and he let out a hiss. Sansa had no desire to move from the position that they were in despite knowing that it was rather unseemly. She turned her head on his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart. Jon gasped and his hand clenched in her hair, tugging on it lightly. She responded to the slight sting with a kiss higher up at the hollow of his throat. Sansa continued kissing him wherever she could fit her lips until she found his mouth.

Jon’s hands fell to her back and he pulled her up closer, his tongue sweeping over her bottom lip and begging for entrance. Sansa allowed it, letting out a small sigh as he deepened the kiss. When he broke away, she felt a stab of disappointment. Jon pushed her up, ignoring her strain against his strength. He looked into her eyes with a frown fixed on his face.

“Sansa, we should stop.” He murmured, stroking her cheek.

She refused to listen, a small part of her wondering if the illness made her delirious. Sansa took his hands off of her shoulders and entwined his hands with her own, pushing them onto the bed on either side of his head. Jon didn’t struggle and she wondered if he simply didn’t want to hurt her. Sansa leaned forward to kiss him once more, unintentionally rolling her hips against his. They both let out soft noises at the friction. She felt heat pooling between her thighs and set about kissing along his jaw.

“Didn’t… gods, Sansa…” Jon groaned, tilting his head back. “Didn’t my sister speak to you?”

She froze, the words sparking something within her. Her cheeks flooded with color as she remembered the conversation with Rhaenys a sennight earlier. Sansa sat up, looking down at him with narrowed eyes.

“How do you know about that?” she asked in a low voice.

Jon looked at her with wide eyes, looking as though he was caught doing something terrible.

“I may have suggested that she speak to you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sansa was pushing off of him and staggering away from the bed. Jon sat up, reaching out to steady her. She slapped his hands away, righting herself before she walked away from him. Sansa drank from a cup of water with shaking hands before turning to face him.

“You suggested it?” she demanded.

Jon nodded, looking at her with a pained expression.

“Do you realize how humiliating that conversation was? Rhaenys spoke to me about things… things that I didn’t even know. That I never even heard of!” Sansa exclaimed, feeling frustrated.

He squinted at her, looking confused.

“What things?” Jon asked suspiciously.

Sansa’s cheeks turned even darker pink and she looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

“Things that happen between man and woman. Things that seem highly improbable but judging by your sister’s explanations, they must taken place in brothels or other places of ill repute.” she ranted.

There was silence for a few moments before she risked a glance at Jon to see him torn between amusement and frustration.

“I’m going to have to talk to her.” he groaned, falling back into the bed.

Sansa frowned at him, stepping forward.

“No, you are not. I am not going to allow myself to be submitted to such a discussion again. The only reason that you will talk to her is to tell her never to bring it up again in my presence. Never!” she snapped, pointing a finger at him.

Jon looked over at her, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“There is nothing amusing here, my prince.” Sansa said, frustration evident in her voice.

“You get rather haughty and demanding when you are angry. It’s quite the change from your usual demeanor. Perhaps I should seek to anger you more.” Jon said, a suggesting tone in his voice.

Her eyes widened at his words. Sansa could not find the right way to respond to him so she stood there just staring until the door opened. She jumped as Jon sat up quickly and bunched the blankets just over his groin. Rhaenys entered, looking between them questioningly.

“I heard raised voices. You look better, Lady Sansa,” She said, stepping further into the room. “Shall I let you continue your argument?”

“It’s not an argument.” Sansa and Jon said at once.

“Well it certainly sounded like one.” The princess said, walking to stand with Sansa.

She felt confusion when Rhaenys brushed her hair over her shoulder to lie over her breasts.

“The shift is rather thin and doesn’t hide much from prying eyes.” Rhaenys murmured in her ear, glancing pointedly at her brother.

Sansa’s cheeks burned hotly as she struggled to cover herself. Her eyes flashed to Jon where he was looking rather embarrassed himself as he looked anywhere but at her.

“You saw!” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

He blinked at her, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“You saw and you did not tell me?” Sansa demanded.

Jon looked lost for words, clearly searching for them. She flew forward, yanking the pillow off of the bed.

“You… utter… prick!” she yelled, using a rare curse as she hit him again and again with the pillow.

Jon dodged her hits and tried to grasp her wrists as he laughed. He finally succeeded, dragging her onto the bed with him. Sansa struggled to keep hitting him despite the lack of pillow in her hands but he successfully pinned her to the bed, grinning down at her as she laughed as well.

“I am a man, sweet girl.” he reminded her.

“A polite one, I thought.” Sansa countered with no venom in her voice.

She was already forgetting about it as she looked at the warmth and tenderness in his eyes. They were staring at each other for several moments before Rhaenys spoke up again.

“As lovely as you two are together, I came up for a reason. If you are feeling well enough, which I imagine that you are, your uncle is here, Sansa. He wishes to greet you and inquire as to your health. I thought that you might want to make yourself presentable.”

She held up a dark blue woolen gown and Sansa sat up, knocking Jon’s hands away.

“I should greet him after I bathe.” she said, pushing herself out of the bed.

Jon groaned at the loss of her body and fell back onto the pillows. Both Sansa and Rhaenys looked at him with little sympathy.

“Brother, would you be so kind as to go request water to be brought up for a bath?” his sister asked, grinning at him.

“And perhaps a bit of food. I am dreadfully starving.” Sansa added, glacing over her shoulder at him with a pleading glance.

He huffed, yanking his tunic over his head.

“You are both horrible.” he muttered.

Sansa and Rhaenys both laughed as he made his way out. As soon as she slid into the warm water, Rhaenys sat beside her as she bathed. Sansa looked down at her arm, brushing her fingers over the dark bruise in the shape of a hand.

“Did I truly kill a man?” she whispered, hoping that it was simply a horrible nightmare.

The princess frowned at her.

“No, you did not. Jon killed him.” Rhaenys said.

Sansa looked at her with a solemn expression.

“He would have died, Jon said so himself. If we left him, he eventually would have perished.” She said quietly.

“He would have hurt you if you didn’t do what you did. He might have even killed you.”

Sansa fell silent again, continuing her bath as she tried to push the sight of the man dying before her out of her mind. A while later, Rhaenys was lacing Sansa into the dress that didn’t entirely fit her. She bought it from the innkeeper as it belonged to his daughter. It was too tight across the bosom and hips but Sansa brushed the issues aside, relieved to be greeting her uncle in something other than breeches and a tunic. Rhaenys quickly brushed her hair out and she braided it over her shoulder.

“Are you ready?” the princess asked.

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded, preparing herself to see her uncle once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Sansa meets Edmure Tully once more and he escorts them to Riverrun. The king requests to speak to her before they reach her mother's birthplace.


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Riverrun, Jon finds himself experiencing jealousy and Sansa experiences something very new to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some of you are tired of the sexual tension and such. I apologize and I promise that this is the last chapter that addresses that for quite a while. I just thought it would be an important thing to focus on with Sansa being so uneducated about many things that will reflect in the way she reacts to everyone but especially Jon. I hope that you do not grow too impatient with me. I am someone who enjoys the sexual tension part of fics and I like writing it too. I did not realize that it might get old for some people. I hope to do better in the future.
> 
> You are all amazing, just to let you know.

**Sansa**

As she walked out of the room and towards the stairs, Rhaenys laughed from behind her. She turned to see that she was amused by Sansa’s fidgeting within the confines of her woolen dress.

“When one is used to breeches, it feels strange.” Sansa hissed, tugging at the tight bodice.

“You don’t have to tell me,” the princess sighed, gesturing to the dark green gown that she was wearing. “I never thought that I would see the day when I preferred breeches to skirts.”

“Being a lady is so very difficult.” Sansa decided.

Rhaenys let out a murmur of agreement as they descended the stairs. When they reached the tavern, it was empty of everyone except for the royal family who were gathered several steps away from her uncle and a few soldiers who stood with him.

“Uncle Edmure.” Sansa said, a smile forming on her face.

She crossed the room towards him and sank into a curtsy. He reached out, bending over to kiss her hand.

“You look more beautiful than before, my niece, if such a thing is possible.”

Sansa flushed at his words but before she could respond, he spoke again.

“I heard that you were ill. Are you recovered?” Edmure asked, stepping towards her.

“I am feeling much better, thanks to the patience and kind caretaking of the royal family. I am deeply within their debt for many reasons.” she said with a smile.

When she saw her uncle’s eyes narrow at the king, her smile faltered but she recovered it quickly when he looked back at her.

“I am very happy to see that you are recovered. Riverrun is ready to receive you as soon as you decide to resume your travels.” Edmure said.

Sansa glanced back at the others, knowing that she could not make the decision.

“If Lady Sansa is well enough, we are glad to continue onto Riverrun.” Rhaegar said, nodding at her uncle.

“Excellent. We have a retinue of twenty guards escorting us so you need not worry for your safety.” Edmure said confidently.

She frowned at him, tilting her head to the side.

“I did not worry for my safety before, uncle. Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard do their duty quite well, even when it comes to protecting me.” Sansa said.

“Of course.” Edmure agreed, bowing his head.

When he lifted it and looked at Ser Barristan, she could still see a defiant glint in his eyes. Sansa was not able to think on it further before they were all walking outside to ready their horses. As she stroked Myriah’s mane and let her eat a carrot from her hand, she felt someone come up behind her. Jon fidgeted with the straps on her saddle with one hand to cover the other that slipped around her waist. His breath washed over her throat and he glanced around before pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear when he was certain that no one was watching.

“I prefer the breeches.” he murmured in a low, rough voice.

Sansa shivered in his arms, smiling as she turned her head towards his.

“As do I,” she admitted. “You would look dreadful in a dress.”

Jon tossed his head back and laughed at her words. The others turned to look at them but neither noticed. The royal family were used to their interactions but Edmure looked surprised by it, especially when Jon put his hands on her waist to help her onto the horse, his touch lingering for a bit longer than was necessary. As soon as she was seated with her skirts situated around her, he took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. She felt her cheeks flushing as she watched him walk to his own horse and swing his body up into the saddle. Sansa urged her horse forward and started to ride between Jon and Rhaenys as she often did.

“Perhaps you should ride with your uncle.” the princess suggested.

She frowned, glancing back at Edmure. She realized that Rhaenys was right. It would be rude of her not to ride with her mother’s brother, especially since he’d added three days to his journey to meet them at the inn. She sent a regretful look to Jon before falling back to ride with her uncle.

“It is curious, isn’t it?” Edmure commented as they rode out of the village.

They were separated by the royal family by several lengths so they did not hear him.

“What is, uncle?” Sansa replied, glancing over at him.

He was watching Jon and Rhaenys with a calculating look. She glanced at the siblings to see that they were talking in low voices.

“That neither the prince nor the princesses are betrothed. They are both of age and have been for several years. Perhaps Rhaegar sensed this brewing conflict years ago and waited to marry his children off until it could benefit him more. I wonder if they will seek to make political matches with war fast approaching. Perhaps with the Freys or even the Baratheons to ensure their loyalty to the true king.”

Sansa’s gloved hand gripped her reigns tighter at the thought of watching Jon marry a Frey girl, or any girl for that matter.

“If they were truly smart, they would seek to ally with the North. What better way to do that than to unite with the Stark family? Their bloodline goes back as far as the Targaryens, or possibly further, and they have the respect of all seven kingdoms.” Edmure continued, sounding as innocent as he possibly could.

She looked over at him with wide eyes to see that he was staring back at her knowingly. Despite the fact that she’d only met him twice now and had barely spent any time with him at all, Sansa felt immense gratitude and knew that she could quickly take a liking to her uncle.

“I am certain that the Targaryens will consider all of their options.” she answered, ducking her head with a slight smile.

“They will indeed.” he agreed, nodding at her.

Sansa glanced up at Jon to see that he was looking back at her. Warmth filled her heart and she smiled wider, earning a smile in return. She knew that she looked like a silly, lovesick young girl but for the first time since she was delivered to Casterly Rock, Sansa felt like she could truly act her age and be happy.

**Rhaenys**

The relief amongst herself and her family was palpable when Edmure led them to the small castle of a lesser lord. After over a month of residing in small inns and sleeping on cots, they were going to be properly received and given rooms with fireplaces. It sounded like a ridiculous thing to wish for but since their departure from King’s Landing as they traveled north, Rhaenys had missed the warmth of her room at night. She glanced back at Sansa to see her looking up at the stone building with a longing look in her eyes. A man around Edmure Tully’s age walked out with a smile on his face as they rode into the courtyard with no trouble from the guards. The heir to Riverrun leapt off of his horse and embraced the man happily.

“It is good to see you, old friend.” Edmure claimed.

“And you,” the man replied before glancing past him at the others. “You’ve brought quite the group.”

Sansa’s uncle turned to them, nodding in agreement. As Rhaegar climbed off of his horse, the man sank into a low bow.

“Your Grace.” he said with deference.

“Rise.” Rhaegar said before helping Elia off of her horse.

Jon did the same with Rhaenys and Sansa as Ser Barristan helped Daenerys before they approached the two men.

“May I present to you my good friend, Tristan Ryger?” Edmure said.

“I am honored to offer you lodgings for as long as you wish to stay, as well as warm meals.” Tristan said, his eyes flickering over them and resting on Sansa.

He looked shocked for a moment as Rhaegar thanked him for his offer, his eyes widening as if he’d seen a ghost. Rhaenys watched as Sansa blushed under his gaze.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was the Cat of my youth.” he said.

Edmure nodded, reaching his hand out to Sansa. She took it and stepped forward, giving him a small smile.

“This is my young niece, Sansa Stark. She does look so much like my sister.” he agreed.

She flushed as Tristan bent over and kissed her hand. Rhaenys glanced at Jon to see him watching the exchange with an impassive look. Despite his attempts at hiding his emotions, she knew her brother better than that. She saw the tightening in his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes.

“You are most welcome, Lady Stark. Any relation of Ed’s is a friend of mine.” he said as he straightened up.

“Thank you, Lord Ryger.” Sansa replied, bowing her head to him.

She stepped away from him as soon as he released her hand. When his attention was focused elsewhere, Rhaenys smiled slightly when she saw Sansa discreetly make her way to Jon’s side. Tristan turned to the king and queen, sweeping his arm towards the keep.

“Shall we?”

They walked into the castle to see a gathering of servants.

“They will escort you to your chambers in the east wing of the castle. I apologize for the state of the rooms. They have not been updated in several years. We do not receive many guests at our modest keep.” Tristan said.

“Whatever you offer will be enough for us. This is luxury that we have not seen in a moon’s turn.” Rhaegar assured him.

Lord Rygar nodded at him before gesturing for the servants to lead them away.

“I will send servants to fetch you when our meal is ready.” he announced.

One by one, they were shown their rooms. Rhaenys was placed between the chambers that her mother and father were given and where Jon was placed. Sansa was at the end of the hall and she watched as the redhead entered her room and closed the door behind her. Rhaenys went in and splashed her face with water before allowing a maid to dress her in a dark red gown. It was the only proper dinner dress that she brought amongst the other belongings. When she left her room, she went straight to Sansa’s. A maid opened it and allowed her in. Sansa was by the large looking glass with the other maid dressing her.

Her dress was dark green with silver embellishment. It brought out her hair wonderfully and her direwolf necklace was sitting just beneath the hollow of her throat. Sansa smiled over at her as pulled her hair over her shoulder to allow the maid to lace her dress. Rhaenys sat on her bed, kicking her legs back and forth as she watched Sansa dismiss the maids and sit down at the dressing table.

“I think that Lord Rygar could take a liking to you.” she said, wanting to see how she reacted.

Sansa pressed her lips into a thin line and glanced at Rhaenys as she twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.

“Well I can hardly see myself taking a liking to him. He smelled of a strange odor.” She said, wrinkling her nose.

Rhaenys giggled and felt better at her words.

“I am certain that he is a rather good friend to my uncle and it is possible that he was close to my mother once but that is all that he shall have to be. It would not be wise for the daughter of Eddard Stark to marry someone from a lesser house in the Riverlands.”

“What about someone from a greater house in the Crownlands?” she suggested.

Sansa looked at her once more with surprise and exasperation in her eyes.

“You are the second person today to suggest that I might marry Jon.” She said, turning to face her fully.

Rhaenys grinned at her.

“I never said anything about my brother, dear Sansa.” she reminded her.

Sansa flushed at the truth of it but she did not seem dissuaded.

“There are hardly any houses that are greater than the Starks and only one of them can claim residence in the Crownlands. Unless you think me to marry you or Daenerys, you must be speaking of Jon.” she countered.

Rhaenys simply shrugged with an amused glimmer in her eyes.

“I suppose that I would rather have you as a good sister rather than any other woman in the seven kingdoms,” she said, tracing the pattern of the blanket on the bed. “At least I know that you would care about more than my brother’s eventual seat on the Iron Throne.”

Sansa didn’t speak right away, chewing on her lip warily.

“Do you think that it could truly happen?” she asked.

A knock sounded on the door and the steward announced that dinner would be served in the Great Hall.

“I think that my father would be a fool not to suggest it.” Rhaenys decided, standing up.

Sansa did the same and they drifted to the door together.

“But would my father agree to it? Despite Joffrey’s insistence, the Lannisters had no true right to arrange a marriage for me. Your father may suggest a match and my father may refuse, as is his right.” she said as they stepped into a hall.

“Then he should be invited to Riverrun so that he may meet his sister’s son himself. I am certain that when he sees Jon’s nature for himself, he could not find a better man to be his future king or his future good son. I do not think there is anything to be concerned about.” Rhaenys said confidently.

Despite her words, she could still see doubt lingering in Sansa’s eyes as they descended to the Great Hall.

“Trust me, Sansa. I know how my father thinks. Such a marriage will be for the good of the realm.” she said, sliding her arm through Sansa’s.

The younger girl forced a smile onto her face and nodded.

“I do trust you.” she said.

Rhaenys beamed at her, pleased to have convinced her that this match was a good one. Now if she could only convince everyone else. After all, she only had one brother left and she did not wish to see him unhappy for the rest of his days if he was forced to marry a stranger that he would likely never love. Rhaenys also did not wish to lose the newfound friendship she had with Sansa, no matter how selfish it sounded. There was also the truth of her gentle and kind nature. Sansa would truly make a gracious queen and she would compliment Jon well. They rule Westeros well with the other at their side and Rhaenys felt it was her duty to her family and to the seven kingdoms to ensure such a future was made. She could not swing a sword or fire an arrow, but she could certainly do her part.

**Jon**

While he was grateful for the accomodations that were offered to them by Lord Rydar, he was less than pleased about the seating arrangements at dinner. He was sat between his sister and his father with the queen on the other side of the king. Tristan was seated across from them next to Daenerys with Sansa in between him and her uncle. Rather than currying the favor of the royal family, the lord of the castle seemed content with regaling Sansa with stories of his childhood with Edmure and her mother. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had not laughed with delight at his words, leaning in to him to hear more. Her uncle took up the duty of amusing Jon’s family until Tristan broke into their conversation.

“Edmure, tell dearest Sansa of your injury in the godswood at Riverrun.” he said.

“You should tell her, my friend. You are a better storyteller than I.” Edmure responded.

Tristan was not put off by his refusal, launching into the tale of his friend falling from a tree and breaking his arm. Sansa gasped and put her hand on her uncle’s shoulder as if to apologize for a pain he had not felt in years.

“Edmure ran into the castle howling his head off as if he was dying. Of course, that happened to be the day that Rickard Stark was visiting with his son, Brandon, to suggest a marriage between Catelyn and the heir to Winterfell. Luckily, the Warden of the North simply thought it was funny when it was discussed at the feast later.”

At the mention of Sansa’s grandfather and uncle, the table grew silent. Tristan’s bright look fell as he realized what he said. Jon felt a strange sort of satisfaction at the man’s humiliation. Everyone seemed to be thinking of the fates of the father and son as Lord Rydar searched for a way to backtrack. He did not speak for a long time and eventually, the conversation of the table turned to the oncoming winter that the Citadel warned of several months ago. Jon’s eyes flickered to Sansa, wondering if she was thinking of the words of House Stark as well. When his eyes fell on her, he saw that she was speaking in hushed tones to both Edmure, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes downcast.

Her uncle was listening closely to her as she spoke quickly, her eyes flickering up to Jon’s father every once in a while. He didn’t realize that he was staring and not eating until her mouth formed his name and her eyes met his. Sansa paused in her speaking, taken aback by whatever she saw in his expression. When Edmure urged her to keep speaking, she broke her gaze and looked at her uncle, continuing in whatever she was telling him. Jon looked away from her as well, his eyes falling on his father, who was also watching Sansa converse with him. His eyes were narrowed slightly and he looked upon her with suspicions. Rather than feel annoyance at the fact that she was so engaged, Jon wondered exactly what she was talking to them about.

Eventually, the conversation went back to tales of the Riverlands many years ago and everyone listened in as Edmure and Tristan talked at length. When Jon grew tired of the bright-eyed looks that Sansa was sending to Lord Rygar, he stood up and everyone looked at him, the hall falling silent.

“I would like to excuse myself. I am quite tired after today’s journey and my head aches.” he said.

“I do hope you feel better, Prince Jon.” Tristan said as he turned to leave.

Jon fought the urge to continue on as if he hadn’t heard him but he forced himself to turn around and acknowledge the man.

“Thank you, Lord Rygar.” He said with a tight smile.

His eyes flickered to Sansa to see that she was giving him a burning look. Her eyes were wide and her lower lip caught between her teeth. He noticed that her chest was flushed and remembered seeing the servant refill her cup of wine several times throughout the night. Normally, Jon would gather her in his arms and kiss her deeply. He clenched his fists at his sides before nodding at her and turning to leave. He felt eyes on him as he walked out but did not look back again, unsure of whether or not he would make it out of the room if he did.

**Sansa**

She knew that Jon’s eyes were on her for much of the meal. It was hard not to feel his gaze and it made her feel as though she was burning from the inside out. Sansa did not wish to be rude and showed attention to her uncle’s friend in return for the offer of his castle for the night. She did not normally indulge in much wine but she drank it more than usual, needing a distraction so that she did not stare back at Jon. Her eyes caught on him a few times and she shifted in her seat at the darkened look in his eyes. It was only when he dismissed himself from the table that she had a vague inclination of what was wrong.

As they stood and began departing from the hall to their chambers, Sansa refused Lord Rygar’s offer to escort her to her rooms. Rhaenys hurried over to her, clutching at her arm as she bent her head towards her.

“If you like, I can tell Jon that you think of Tristan Rygar as a rather unpleasant man.” she said quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” Sansa hissed, unable to keep the smile off of her face. “He’s jealous.”

Rhaenys let out a laugh as they approached her chambers.

“Of course he is. Everyone at the table could sense it. He almost bent his fork in two when Lord Rygar touched your necklace.” she said.

Sansa turned towards her with a grin.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” she sighed happily.

“Stop torturing my poor brother. You’ll turn his hair gray.” Rhaenys said, leaning in to kiss her cheek before retiring into her chambers.

Sansa floated down the hall towards her own door but someone called her name and caused her to turn. When she saw the king approaching her, she automatically sank into a curtsy. The queen was nowhere to be seen, leaving them alone in the corridor except for the Kingsguard who were standing guard.

“I am aware that you likely wished to speak in a semblance of privacy with your uncle but these are dangerous times, Lady Sansa. It would be wise of you to take care in how you speak even to the trustworthiest of individuals. After all, I was betrayed by people that I saw as my friends and allies. The same could easily happen to you.” he said.

Sansa realized that he was speaking of her hushed conversation with her uncle.

“Your Grace, I did not intend any offense. My uncle wanted to know how I came to be traveling with you and your family. I thought, since he is graciously escorting us and ensuring that no more harm comes to us, that he deserved to know at least a condensed version. I simply told him of my misfortune with the Lannisters and the happenings in King’s Landing after their departure. I assure you that I did not speak of anything that would reflect badly on you. Everything that was said described you and your family in the upmost respect.” she said breathlessly, hoping that he would believe her.

Rhaegar considered her words before nodding once.

“I simply wish for you to take care, Lady Sansa. You seem to be a woman who sees the good in people but often that will come around to harm you.” he said.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Sansa nodded at him.

Before he turned to leave, he looked as though he wanted to say something else.

“My son is rather taken with you.” he said.

Sansa swallowed hard, wondering why this day was when people chose to comment on her interactions with Jon.

“I am rather taken with him as well.” she admitted.

Rhaegar looked at her with a calculating look.

“His role in events to come is rather important. He is my heir and he will rule one day. I do not seek to tell you that you cannot see him. I simply want to remind you that if you choose a path that will align yourself with him, you will have to sacrifice certain desires.”

Sansa was taken aback by his words as she watched him walk away. She expected an admonishment or even for him to forbid them from pursuing each other. As she turned to walk into her room, Sansa wondered exactly what she would have to give up if she chose Jon. Whatever they were, they could not be as painful as giving the prince up when she fancied herself falling in love with him, could they?

When she entered her room, Sansa walked to her dressing table and set about uncoiling her hair. When it fell around her shoulders, she began combing her fingers through it. Just as she rose to stand, she saw a figure hovering in the shadows and let out a cry of surprise, pressing her hand over her heart.

"Jon." she sighed, her pulse racing.

He walked towards her, the strange look still on his face.

"I didn't like it." Jon said, gathering her in his arms and pressing his face into her hair.

Sansa felt a warmth rushing through her that had nothing to do with the wine she drank that night. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and slid one of her hands into his soft hair.

"What didn't you like?" she murmured, his closeness making her forget his father's words.

"That man... your laughing... the entire meal." Jon said, frustration evident in his voice.

She could not fight the smile that took over her face.

"My poor prince." Sansa said in a light voice.

He withdrew, squinting at her as he took in her amusement. Suddenly she was lifted into his arms and he was pressing his lips to hers insistently. Sansa gasped into his mouth as their bodies melded together. Before she knew it, they were staggering to her bed. Jon pushed her back onto the blankets with gentle hands and climbed over her just as gingerly. Sansa's fingers dug into the material of his leather jerkin as his slid into her fiery tresses. His mouth sought hers desperately and Sansa responded with fervor, arching towards him. She knew that she was acting wanton but she could not help but remember her talk with Rhaenys.

_"My brother desperately wishes for me to speak to you though I cannot understand why. If any other man had a beautiful and willing maid, he would not hesitate to turn her down. I suppose my brother has always been different from others."_

Sansa letting out a gasping noise, Jon's lips at her throat tearing her out of her thoughts. She tilted her head back, giving him more access. His hand slid down her side, gripping her hip as he anchored her in place on the bed.

_"I think that you might be the first woman to test his resolve. Perhaps he thinks that if you are educated on such things, proper things, that you will be more steadfast in your refusal to take him into your bed. Jon is very honorable and he always has been. But he is a man like any other when it comes to these things. The more willing you are, the harder he will find it to deny himself."_

Sansa's mouth fell open in a soft sigh as Jon's knee nudged her thighs apart. Her legs opened and he fell between them, pressing their bodies even closer together as he nibbled at her earlobe.

"Jon." she whimpered, desperate for something that she could not name, even in her jumbled thoughts.

Heat centered between her thighs as he nuzzled her throat and murmured her name in a low voice.

_"Decide what you want, Sansa. As soon as you do, you hold the key to everything in your hands. If you are certain in your desires, Jon will know and he will seek to fulfill them all."_

Sansa pushed against his shoulders, looking up at his dazed and lustful eyes. He looked confused but reality was also setting back in. She did not want that.

"The door." she said in a husky voice that she hardly recognized.

Jon looked up at it, a line forming between his brows.

"It's not locked. Anyone could..."

Sansa didn't finish, knowing that the implication was enough. He was pushing off of her and taking a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her concern in no way lessening her desire for him.

"Jon?"

He looked at her with wide eyes, his pupils blown wide and his mouth twisted into a grimace at the lust he heard in her voice.

"Sansa, what are we doing?" he said in a quiet voice.

She looked at him strangely, tilting her head to the side.

"Do you need a description, Jon?" Sansa asked, wondering what had made his thoughts turn around so quickly.

"This is... this can't happen. You deserve better than this." he said.

She knew that his thoughts were torturing him and Sansa really couldn't have that. Not when she wanted him so desperately.

"What I deserve is something that should be decided by me." she replied.

He shook his head, turning away from her. Jon seemed to make a decision and Sansa scrambled to get off of the bed as he headed for the door.

"Wait!" she said, catching his arm just as he reached for the door.

Jon froze, not looking back at her but not shrugging her off either.

"Please, Jon," Sansa whispered, leaning up on her toes to kiss the back of his neck. "Please don't go."

She knew that it was unfair, pleading with him this way. Sansa even felt like she was manipulating him but she could not bear to see him go.

"You know that we can't, sweet girl. You know that." he said in a pained voice.

Sansa didn't listen, trailing more kisses over his neck. He took a deep breath before reaching out to latch the door. Sansa stepped back when he turned towards her but his arms caught her waist, dragging her back towards him. Her hands planted over his chest as he crowded her back against the wall and began kissing her for all he was worth. When he hitched her leg up at his hip and pushed her skirt up her leg, Sansa quivered in his arms and her toes curled in her slipper. Jon's fingers traced the skin above her stocking before sliding his hand up her thigh. She could hardly believe that this was happening. Sansa buried her face in his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles into her skin.

"Sansa." Jon groaned in her ear.

Sansa whimpered at the way that her mouth sounded on his lips. When his hand traced the lining of her smallclothes, she let her head fall against the wall. Jon kissed her lazily, his tongue stroking her lower lip and his other hand stroking the back of her neck beneath her hair. When his fingers lightly stroked the outside of the cloth covering her most intimate of places, Sansa gasped and clutched at him even tighter.

"Gods, you're so wet." he mumbled.

She did not know if that was good or bad but when his fingers pulled the smallclothes aside, Sansa did not care anymore. Jon's fingers felt like burning coals when they stroked over the auburn curls and parted her folds. At the first touch of him to her womanhood, Sansa moaned loudly and her entire body shuddered. Jon shushed her, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. His fingers explored her gently, gathering the wetness there before he found a spot that made her vision darken and her knees grow weak.

Sansa cried out against his mouth and found herself rubbing shamelessly against his hand. Jon murmured encouragements against her lips, telling her to let him take care of her, to let him make her feel good. His middle finger rubbed against the spot again and again until Sansa was almost sobbing with how good it felt. The sensations running through her body could only be described as shocks of warmth and pleasure. She let out a string of whispered pleas, begging him not to stop, to bring her to whatever glorious finish that she somehow knew was awaiting her.

"Gods, Jon... I can't... I'm going to..." she gasped out, her chest heaving and her entire body trembling.

"Come for me, sweet girl. Let me please you." Jon whispered.

Sansa dragged his mouth towards hers and let out a muffled cry as her peak hit her like a bolt of lightning. It rolled through her entire body, from her head to the very tips of her toes. Sansa gripped Jon tightly as if she would fly away if she let him go. Her face was buried in his neck as she rode out the intense pleasure. When her body grew still, Jon took a deep breath and pulled her away from him. Sansa looked up at him to see regret already slipping into place in his eyes. It broke through her muddled state of mind and caused her to panic.

“Jon…” she began, reaching up to his face as he pulled his hands away from her.

He caught her wrist and shook his head.

“We should not have done that.” he said quietly.

This part was not in the conversation that she had with Rhaenys. Positions and places where mouths could go were explained but nothing about regret was mentioned. Before she could argue with him, Jon leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead gently. Sansa watched with wide, hurt-filled eyes as he turned to walk out, shutting the door behind him. Despite her sated state, she felt like crying. Sansa staggered to the bed and eased herself between the blankets without even bothering to take off her dress. She could have reached the laces to undo them but she did not have the desire to. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut against the burning tears, wondering how that possibly could have gone so wrong.

**Rhaenys**

When they gathered in the Great Hall to break their fast, she could already sense that something was wrong. Sansa and Jon sat at opposite end of the table and neither of them spoke a word or ate barely anything at all. When it came time for them to leave, Jon did not go to her as he usually did. Instead, Sansa was helped onto her horse by her uncle and her eyes were downcast, not even glancing around at anyone. She frowned as she mounted her own mare, glancing between them. Something happened between them, something that caused everything to go wrong. As she watched them avoid each other when they rode away from the castle, she vowed to help them put it all right.

Even Daenerys, Edmure, and her mother and father were shooting Jon and Sansa strange looks, wondering what happened between them during the night. Without Sansa laughing and Jon murmuring soft words to her, the journey felt strangely silent no matter who else spoke. When they stopped for a rest, Rhaenys walked to Sansa and touched her shoulder. The younger woman turned to her with sad eyes, glancing over at where Jon was sitting on a rock. She looked as though she might cry.

“What happened?” Rhaenys asked.

Sansa looked at her with watery eyes.

“I fear that I may have ruined everything.” she whispered before throwing herself into Rhaenys’s arms.

She embraced her, glancing over at her brother with surprise. Jon was watching Sansa with a pained look, his emotions clear in his eyes. Once Rhaenys calmed Sansa down and they started to ride again, she pulled up beside her brother.

“Jon...” she began.

“Don’t, Rhaenys. Please.” he said pleadingly, looking at her with sadness.

She sighed, glancing back at Sansa where she was riding with her uncle.

“Just tell me what happened. I can help.” she offered.

“I have ruined everything, dear sister. There is nothing that can help that.” Jon said regrettably before speeding up to ride in front of her.

Rhaenys frowned as she glanced between them. There was no possible way that they both ruined everything. If they thought that they were to blame, then really no one was to blame and it was likely a misunderstanding. Now it was just the matter of getting them to understand that. When she saw the miserable expressions on both of their faces, she knew that she had a lot of work ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reaches Riverrun and meets her grandfather, who has a few tough questions for her and the royal family.


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives in Riverrun. Sansa speaks with Jon about what happened. A surprise person is waiting on Sansa when she reaches the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support. You are amazing.
> 
> This chapter is entirely in Sansa's POV. 
> 
> I lied in the last preview. Hoster Tully is not in this chapter but he will definitely be in the next one. Sorry about that. I wanted to resolve Sansa and Jon's conflict before going on any further.

On the last day of their journey to Riverrun, Sansa was ready to arrive at the keep. The past few days had been awkward and frustrating. Jon had been shutting himself away, likely to keep away from her, and she was doing everything she could to avoid speaking of it to anyone. Rhaenys was insistent, wanting them to speak of whatever happened between them. Sansa just could not bring herself to admit what took place in her chambers at Lord Rydar's house.

Even now, as they rested before the last leg of their journey, the princess was urging her to go to Jon. Sansa did not listen to her, drinking cool water out of a skin as she watched him fixing the straps on his saddle. She felt a small stab of anger in her chest at the sight of him. The first day after that night had been filled with sadness and even a bit of heartbreak as she wondered what could be done. The second day was tinged with a bit of annoyance. Now, she was becoming more and more frustrated at his steady ignorance of her.

"He does not want to speak to me, Rhaenys." she sighed.

"You do not know that, Sansa. When your back is turned, he gives you the same pathetic, longing looks that you give him."

Sansa looked at her doubtfully.

"I do not look at him longingly." she said.

Rhaenys gave her the same look, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't." Sansa insisted, walking past her to her horse.

Once she was seated again, she watched as the others mounted their horses and prepared to ride once more. Sansa went ahead of the royal family this time, riding with Edmure as they led the group with only two Tully soldiers in front of them.

"I fear that I must warn you, niece. My father has seldom been well these past few moons. He may not be able to greet us as is his duty." her uncle warned her.

Sansa frowned, knowing that this was the first she'd heard of Hoster Tully being ill.

"Will he be all right?" she asked, looking over at him with a concerned glance.

"I am not certain. He has some days that are worse than others." Edmure said, looking away from her.

"I will pray for him to be well." Sansa decided.

Before he could respond, she heard Rhaenys saying something in a hushed tone.

"Go and speak to her before I lock both of you in a room and throw the key into the river." she hissed.

Sansa felt annoyed at the princess as she heard Jon heave a sigh and his horse pick up speed. Just as he reached her, she saw Edmure drifting back and fought the urge to shoot him a glare.

"Sansa..." Jon began, looking over at her.

"Your Grace." she replied, facing her head forward.

He remained silent for a few moments, most likely taken aback by her use of the respectful term.

"Your Grace?" he finally said.

Sansa finally turned her head to look at him, seeing a confused and slightly hurt look in his eyes. She wondered if he even noticed or cared that she had the same look in her eyes when he left her alone in her chambers.

"Are we not back to showing indifference to each other then, my prince? Here I thought you were suggesting it considering that you have been avoiding my presence for days and even going so far to leave rooms when I enter them." Sansa said, her voice much colder than she intended.

Jon's eyes widened.

"I did not think..." he trailed off, looking as though he was searching for the proper words to say. "I thought that you might not wish to see me. Not after what I did."

HIs voice was low and quiet.

"What you did? Which part, Your Grace? Sneaking into my chambers and giving me the greatest pleasure I've ever felt or leaving me alone afterwards to feel devastated and ashamed?"

Jon looked at her, pain in his eyes and twisting his mouth into a grimace.

"I never meant to cause you shame or devastation." he said in a strained voice.

"You never meant to touch me either. Was it so hard for you to do so? Am I so broken? So mangled by my past that you cannot bear to think of me in that manner?" 

Jon shook his head emphatically.

"Gods no, Sansa. That is not why..."

"Then why?" she cut him off.

He took a deep breath, turning his head away from her. Sansa stared at him for a few more moments before doing the same, staring out at the green hills surrounding them.

"I feel rather strongly for you, dear Sansa," Jon finally spoke again, still looking away from her. "I do not wish to harm or dishonor you. You mustn't take that to mean that I think that you are broken even a little bit."

Sansa's lip trembled and she felt tears burning her eyes as she kept herself from looking at him.

"Must I say more for you to understand?" Jon questioned.

She did not know what to say to him. She still did not fully understand what he was trying to say or why he was so insistent on protecting her from himself when she made it clear that she did not need for him to do such a thing. Sansa took a deep breath and did the only thing that she could. The soldiers in front of her staggered to the side as kicked Myriah in the side and urged her forward. The mare launched into a run as quickly as she could while Sansa let the reigns loose.

She heard a shout of her name behind her as they galloped along the small road. The sound of hooves thundered behind her and she knew that it had to be him. Sansa did not stop, closing her eyes against the wind as it whipped around her face and through her loose hair. She heard Jon calling her name but she did not stop until they went over a hill and Riverrun loomed in the distance. Two horses reached either side of her and she looked around to see Jon and Edmure staring at her as if she had a bout of insanity.

Sansa didn't say a word to them, spurring Myriah into action again. She did not even listen to whether they were following her. Once she reached the town that stood at the gates of the keep, she slowed her horse. People stepped out of the road and turned to look at her. The older people looked stunned, as if they'd seen a ghost. Sansa was used to the reaction by now, knowing that they saw her mother in her face. Her heart thundered in her chest as they neared the keep and the guards opened the gates automatically when they saw her uncle behind her.

As soon as she was in the courtyard, Sansa rode straight for the stables. Edmure was interrupted by the steward of the castle running to him with a panicked expression. Sansa glanced back at him before realizing that she would be faced with Jon alone once more. As soon as she allowed Myriah to stop under the cover of the stables. A servant hurried forward to place a block at the side of her horse.

Before she could slide off, Jon dismounted his and strode over, kicking the block out of the way. Sansa narrowed her eyes at him, knowing that he gave her no other choice than to allow him to help her. She held her arms out to him, hating the warmth that flooded her body at his his hands that gripped her hips with a gentle hold. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, Sansa lost her internal battle not to look up into his dark grey eyes. She found herself drawn into his gaze.

"You are not broken, my dear Sansa. You are the most whole, beautiful, amazing woman that I have ever met.”

She closed her eyes, fighting back the burning tears.

“Oh Jon.” Sansa whispered, letting her head fall against his chest.

He cradled her head in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I only wish to keep you happy, Sansa. I do not want to dishonor you.” he said.

“All I want for you to do is listen to me, Jon,” Sansa replied, looking up at him pleadingly. “What I want should matter here as well.”

He nodded at her.

“It does matter and I vow to…”

She didn’t let him finish, her eyes catching on a horse within one of the stalls. Sansa slipped past Jon and stared at it with disbelief, wondering if it could truly be the horse that she was thinking of. She did not listen as Jon called her name, slipping into the stall. Sure enough, she saw the familiar saddle and even the hidden pouch that held a dagger. Sansa stroked the stallion’s mane with a pounding heart before she turned to run out of the stables. She found her uncle arguing with many different men who were surrounding them. Sansa thought that they might have been lord of the Riverlands but she hardly paid them any mind, grasping Edmure’s arm.

“Where is he? Where is Jaime?” she said.

He looked at her with shock, wondering how it was possible that she knew of the unexpected guest that was within the walls of the keep.

“The Kingslayer?” one of the other men scoffed.

She turned a burning gaze on him, not even caring who he was.

“Do not call him that.” Sansa said angrily.

Edmure jumped in as they all stared at her with shock.

“Sansa, might we speak within the castle?” he asked, glancing around at the other men.

“Take me to him, uncle. Please.” Sansa said, her eyes widening as she gave him a pleading look.

Edmure sighed, taking her hand in his. He tucked it into his elbow and pulled her towards the Great Hall.

“They are bringing him to me.” he said.

“Is Jaime a prisoner?” Sansa gasped.

Her uncle looked back at her with surprise at the horror in her voice at the idea. When he glanced behind, she did the same, seeing Jon following them with a confused look on his face. She gave him an apologetic look before turning back to her uncle.

“You do remember what family he belongs to? What he has done?” he said.

“I remember that he is my friend. That is all that matters to me.” Sansa said as they walked inside.

When she heard scuffling, her head turned and she saw several men walking into the large room. Sansa let go of her uncle as Jon stopped short behind them, shocked to see who they were escorting. A smile slowly formed on her face as he tossed his head to flick his golden hair out of his face.

“Jaime.” Sansa breathed, walking towards him.

He grinned back at her, looking careless that he was in captivity.

“I told you I would greet you.” Jaime said.

She hurried forward, throwing her arms around him without a care for the others in the room. He caught her, embracing her tightly. Sansa buried her face in his shoulder and felt relief filling her.

“You can rest assured that I delivered my own personal justice to my sister’s son when I found out what he did to you.” he murmured in her ear.

She let out a small sob, clutching him closer.

“How did you know?” Sansa asked.

He stroked her hair softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Tyrion sent a raven to me to tell me of what happened. I beat the shit out of the boy before leaving Casterly Rock. I did not know that they planned to take over the throne,” He said, pulling away from her. “You must believe me.” 

Sansa nodded quickly, no doubt in her mind that his words were true.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Because you are here.” Jaime answered, brushing her tears away.

She felt grateful to him, wanting to embrace him once more.

“How did you know that I would be here?” Sansa questioned.

He gave her a cocky look that she had sorely missed.

“I known you for ten years, Sansa. I know more about you than any other soul on this earth.” He said.

She let out a teary laugh before hearing the doors open behind him. When she saw the king walk in with his family and the guards, Sansa stepped away from him, staring between them with fear settling in her chest. It was bad enough that Jon was glowering at him. When Rhaegar stopped short and fixed him with a cold glare, she reached down to clutch at Jaime’s hand.

“Put your sword at my feet.” she hissed.

“What?” Jaime muttered back, clearly confused.

She could see the hesitation and even a bit of fear in his eyes. There was a good chance that the king could demand his head right here and now.

“Do it now.”

“I don’t have a sword, Sansa.” Jaime reminded her.

She cursed inwardly, remembering that they likely disarmed him as soon as he rode through the gates of Riverrun. Before Rhaegar could say a word, Sansa stepped forward and put herself between the others and Jaime.

“I take responsibility for him, Your Grace.” she said quickly.

“Sansa.” Jon said in a warning tone.

She didn’t listen to him, staring into the king’s eyes warily.

“Jaime is here because of me. In Casterly Rock, he often took up the position as my personal guard. I am certain that if he still had a sword, he would swear it to me.” Sansa continued.

Rhaegar stared at her for several moments as everyone watched him, waiting to see his reaction. When she gathered her skirts in her hands and sank to her knees, gasps echoed around her.

“Please, Your Grace. I have wanted nothing more from you,” Sansa pleaded, looking up at him. “I brought you to Riverrun just as you wanted. I have done everything that you asked. He is my friend. He has been my only friend in the world for years.”

The king looked surprised by her words but also torn as he looked up at the man who killed his father. No matter how mad Aerys was, he still killed him when he vowed to protect him. When Sansa heard footsteps behind her, she didn’t turn her head before Jaime was lifting her up to stand.

“Do not beg so prettily for me, Sansa. I hardly deserve it.” he murmured in her ear.

She looked up at him with a fearful expression.

“You do not deserve it,” Rhaegar agreed. “But the lady is right. She has ensured our protection by helping us find a way into Riverrun and she has asked for nothing in return though she easily could have. If this is all that she wishes for, I can grant her such a small request.”

Sansa let out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. Jaime’s hand tightened on her shoulder out of surprise.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” she said, sinking into a curtsy.

Jaime did the same, bowing to him. When Rhaegar’s attention turned to Edmure, she relaxed and took a deep breath, looking up at Jaime.

“Where is Lord Hoster?” the king asked.

“He has taken ill, Your Grace. He regrets that he must delay his greeting until another day. He invites us to dine with his bannermen in his absence.” Edmure said, gesturing to the men that Sansa had spoken so dismissively to.

They all looked proud to be invited to dine with the king and his family.

“Thank you, Lord Edmure. Your hospitality as well as your willingness to ride with us will not be forgotten.” Elia assured him with a warm smile.

Sansa glanced away from Jaime to see Rhaenys staring at her, remnants of surprise in her violet eyes. She avoided Jon’s gaze, knowing that he wouldn’t be terribly happy that she interrupted their conversation to find Jaime, who he still had an aversion to.

“Will you come, niece?” Edmure asked, looking at Sansa.

She hesitated, knowing that it would be polite to agree to dine with them.

“I am feeling rather tired, uncle. By your leave, and yours too, Your Grace, I would ask to take my meal in my chambers tonight.” Sansa said.

Edmure glanced at Rhaegar, seeking his approval before nodding at her.

“You may do what you like, Sansa. This is your home as much as it is ours.” he assured her.

Sansa fought the urge to tell him that this was not her home and never would be. As much as she was happy to be within the walls of a place that she felt safe within, Winterfell was her true home and she would not feel whole until she saw it again.

“Thank you, uncle.” Sansa said.

She turned to leave, expecting for Jaime to follow her. When he stood in place, she looked back at him with impatience.

“It will be rather difficult for me to protect the lady without weapons.” Jaime reminded them with his normal arrogance in his voice.

Her eyes widened and she wondered if he wanted to have his head separated from his shoulders. Edmure looked unsure but he nodded at a guard anyway, gesturing for them to bring his sword and dagger back to him. Sansa watched as he strapped them to his belt before nodding at the men and turning to follow her.

“I suppose that I should thank you.” he said as they were led to her chambers.

“It would be polite of you to do so.” Sansa replied, looking up at him.

Jaime simply shot her a grin and she shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You must be careful here, Jaime. You warned me of King’s Landing and I must warn you of this place. No one here likes you at all.”

He let out a snort, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“Nice to know that you love me so, Sansa.” He said.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him in the hall.

“I am serious. There is only so much that I can do. Promise me that you will try to be careful.” Sansa said.

Jaime grew solemn as well, nodding at her.

“I wouldn’t leave you unprotected, Lady Sansa. Not again.” He said, a shadow crossing his face.

She knew that he blamed himself for Joffrey’s treatment of her though she could not understand why. It was not as though he could have stopped it.

“My lady?”

They both turned at the sound of a maid’s voice. She was walking towards them with a small sack in her hands.

“Princess Rhaenys told me to bring these to you. She said that you would understand what they are.” She said, handing them to Sansa.

She peered into the sack before letting out a sigh and nodding.

“Thank you.” she said before turning to Jaime once more.

He looked curious but he did not ask. Once they were led to her chambers, he started to stand outside as she was led inside.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

“Guarding you as a proper sworn shield should.” he answered, amusement in his voice.

Sansa rolled her eyes, reaching for him.

“I did not refuse to dine in the Great Hall to eat alone in my chambers. Come now.” She said, grasping his arm to drag him inside.

Jaime laughed as the maid stared at them with a scandalized expression. She looked at Sansa with wide eyes.

“Are the chambers to your liking, my lady?” she asked.

“Yes, they are. You are dismissed.” Sansa said, nodding at her.

Jaime stood at the window as she explored the solar and then peeked into her bedchamber. It was all very nice, comparable to her chambers at the Red Keep. Of course, there were no direwolf sigils on the walls or hidden rooms that she knew of. Just as she re-entered the solar, a knock came on the door. Sansa opened it to see that they were bringing her small amount of belongings to her.

“That is dreadful.” Jaime commented as she emptied the contents onto the sofa.

Sansa gave him a look before switching her boots out for slippers and braiding her hair to secure it with a ribbon. As soon as the food came, they ate together as she told him everything that happened between her departure from Casterly Rock and now. She was vague on the details with Joffrey, just as she’d been with her uncle. Once they finished eating, they sat by the fire and drank wine. Jaime told her what happened with him since they last saw each other as she picked up the bag that the maid gave her. Sansa retrieved her small bag of sewing needles and thread before pulling the cloth out. She listened to Jaime speak as she mended the tears in the tunics and breeches.

“What of you and the prince?” Jaime asked when he finished his story.

Sansa paused in her sewing but did not look up at him.

“What do you mean?” she questioned.

“Well, for one, I thought he might volunteer to remove my head if the king’s decision had gone another way from the way that he was looking at me. He looks at you like you make the sun rise. Oh, and you are mending his clothing.”

She flushed and looked up at him, trying not to give anything away.

“How do you know that these are his clothes?” she challenged.

“Well, I doubt you’re mending the king’s clothing and your uncle is not tall enough for those breeches. Princess Rhaenys clearly does not wish to do the mending and you did not seem put off when the responsibility was given to you. Therefore, I deduce that something is going on with you and Prince Jon.” Jaime said before taking a long drink of Arbor Gold.

Sansa fought the urge to throw something at his smug face.

“Rhaenys is dreadful at sewing. It is one of the few things that she cannot do. It is rather uncomfortable to ask the queen to do such a thing for a son who is not hers. It is not as though the prince can ask Ser Barristan to do his sewing. I am the logical choice, unless you wish to take it up. And I used to do your sewing, lest you forget.” she replied evenly, trying to act unbothered by his words.

“Then why are you turning as red as the wine that I am drinking?” Jaime countered.

Sansa huffed and went back to her sewing.

“You are the most infuriating man that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” she said.

“You saved my life, my lady. You are cursed with me now.” he replied, sounding amused.

“I could always change my mind.” Sansa warned him.

“Then you would be stuck with the dreadfully somber prince for company and then where would you be?” 

Sansa lifted her head with a glare directed at him, taking offense to his words.

“Jon is not dreadful!” she snapped.

“Oh, is he Jon then?” Jaime said, a smirk on his lips.

Sansa glowered at him.

“Why did I save your life again?” she said.

“Because of my witty charm.” Jaime said, setting his cup aside.

She shook her head, concentrating on her sewing once more. When he stood and walked to stand before her, she ignored him steadily.

“Why did you save my life?” Jaime asked, bending over to place his hands on the arms of her chair.

Sansa looked up into his eyes, shocked to see him so close.

“Because I place a value on it that you apparently do not,” she replied haughtily before sighing. “And because you are my friend. I cannot afford to lose the friends that I have in this world. There are so few of them.”

Jaime looked deep into her eyes as if he was trying to figure something else out. When a knock came on the door, neither of them moved.

“Come in.” Jaime invited.

Sansa opened her mouth to protest but when she heard the door open and a sharp inhale, her head whipped around and she saw Jon standing there with a hurt look on his face. She suddenly realized exactly how this looked and her heart dropped as he turned away.

“Jon, wait.” Sansa said, shoving Jaime aside.

She leapt up and hurried after him, shooting a glare back at Jaime as he let out a chuckle.

“You are horrid.” she hissed at him.

“By all means, go after your prince.” he said, picking up the rest of her wine to drink it.

Sansa hurried into the hall and dashed after Jon, turning him around. His jaw was clenched and he looked angry, not that she could blame him. If she’d walked in on him in a similar position with a woman, she’d be furious.

“That wasn’t… Jaime is just like that. We weren’t doing anything.” she said.

He looked down at her with dark eyes.

“You didn’t seem too bothered by it.” he said in a low voice.

“I wasn’t but that’s just because it’s Jaime. I’ve known him since I was a little girl, Jon. He’s more like a brother to me than anything else. I assure you, my prince. My dearest Jon,” Sansa said, looking at him with a pleading look as she was desperate for him to believe her. “Jaime is my friend. Only my friend.”

Jon didn’t look any less angry as he brushed his thumb over her thrumming pulse.

“Your sworn shield.” He said roughly.

Sansa nodded, swallowing hard.

“Just my shield. Just my friend. Nothing more.” she whispered, reaching her hand up to stroke his cheek.

Suddenly Jon pulled away, leaving her cold and disappointed. Instead of walking away as she waited for him to do, he took her hand in his and pulled her back towards her chambers. Sansa hurried to keep up, her heart pounding in her chest as she did so. They stopped in the doorway and he turned back to face her.

“This is where I bid you goodnight, sweet Sansa.” Jon murmured.

She started to protest but he slid one hand into her hair and the other wrapped around her waist. He drew her into a deep kiss, making her gasp against his mouth. Sansa melded her body against his and gripped at his jerkin, warmth filling her at the kiss. When Jon pulled away from her, he looked vaguely triumphant as all of the anger melted away.

“Sleep well, my lady.” he said, brushing a kiss over her cheek.

She watched him go with a dazed look in her eyes, her chest heaving.

“I guess I should give him credit for that. It was a rather blatant show of masculinity.”

Sansa jumped and looked at Jaime with surprise, having forgotten that he was even there. She pressed her fingers to her lips, fighting a smile as she closed the door and walked to her chair to begin sewing again. Jaime remained silent, watching her. It was only when she pricked herself for a third time and dropped several stitches that he reached out to stop her.

“Perhaps you should retire to bed.”

She looked up at him before nodding. Sansa stood as he told her that he would fetch a maid to help her dress. Just as Jaime started to walk out of the room, she called after him. He turned back to her with a questioning look in his eyes.

“I am glad that you are here. I have missed you.” she said.

“As am I, Lady Sansa,” He assured her. “And I have missed you very much.”

She watched him go with a smile on her face, clutching at the direwolf necklace around her neck. Sansa drifted into her room, sighing as sat upon her bed and decided that life must have been improving for her. Then she remembered that war was quickly approaching and that likely meant that both Jon and Jaime would likely be called out to battle. The warm feeling in her chest was quickly replaced with a cold one and she was no longer smiling when the maid came in to help her undress. Sansa stared out at the window as she unlaced her, her teeth nipping at her lip as she prayed silently to the old gods for the lives of those that she cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think. Your comments and thoughts are very helpful to me.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is put between her grandfather and the king. She and Jon have a moment alone in which they come to a decision about their relationship. News from several fronts reaches Riverrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff.
> 
> I wanted to let you know that I am aware that there is a story out there that is similar to mine. I wanted to guarantee all of my readers that I am not a person who steals ideas or stories from other people. This story was published well after mine. There are a lot of similarities but also some differences. I am not sure if it is a coincidence. I'm going to keep an eye out to see if it continues showing similarities to my own story. If it does, I will take action.
> 
> I wanted to take the chance to thank each and every one of you who showed concern about this, both in informing the other writer and in messaging me. It means so much to me that you care enough to ensure that both myself and my writing is protected from these situations. You are all amazing and I could not ask for better readers. Thank you.

When she woke, she heard the sound of a door closing. Sansa sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. A maid was bustling about her room, throwing curtains open to let the sunlight in.

“Good morning, milady.” she said in a distant voice.

Sansa sighed out a greeting, realizing in that moment just how much she missed Shae and the way she would shove at her shoulders until she got out of bed.

“Something came for you, Lady Sansa.” the maid said, gesturing to her solar.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she walked through the door and saw a rather large chest sitting on the otherwise empty desk. Sansa crossed to it and unlatched it, opening it with a loud creak. When she saw the fabrics folded and piled atop one another, her eyes widened. A note sat atop them, the scrawl on them not familiar to her. She picked it up to read it.

_Granddaughter,_

_My son informed me that your possessions are few and far between after your flight from King’s Landing. It is my wish that you take advantage of my hospitality in any way that you wish. These fabrics are the finest from the seven kingdoms and the Free Cities. A dressmaker will come to your rooms this evening. The expense is not yours to concern yourself with._

_You are welcome,_

_Hoster Tully_

Sansa reread the letter several times before putting it down to look through the fabrics. She was unfolding them and matching them against each other when her maid called her for her bath. Sansa washed quickly and allowed herself to be dressed, wondering where the sky blue dress came from as it was certainly not hers. She combed through her hair as the maid laced her dress, pinning it back on either side to keep it from her face. As soon as she was presentable, Sansa hurried out of her solar and down to the Great Hall. When she entered, she saw the royal family almost all seated there, with the exception of Rhaegar and Jon.

“You look happy this morning.” Rhaenys commented as she took a seat.

“I am well-rested, princess. That is enough for me to be happy.”

Her friend looked at her doubtfully, wondering what had changed between the previous day and now. Sansa barely noticed, glancing around the large room.

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for my brother? The same brother who came in looking as excitable as you?” Rhaenys asked.

She looked at her, trying to keep an innocent look on her face.

“I am wondering where Jaime is as well.” Sansa said defensively.

“Yes, well we’ll discuss Jaime Lannister later. Right now, I want to know what happened when you rode away from us. It is very rude, leaving me to wonder.” Rhaenys said.

Sansa simply smiled as she sipped a cup of water.

“Jon simply assured me of a few things that I needed to hear.” she said, looking away from her.

Before Rhaenys could push for too many details, a door to their left opened and Edmure walked through looking stressed. When he caught sight of Sansa, he looked relieved. She ceased her eating as he hurried over to her, a desperate look on his face.

“Might you come with me, niece? My father requests your presence in his solar.” he said.

“Are my father and brother still with him?” Rhaenys asked as Sansa stood.

She looked at the princess with surprise, realizing that the king and his heir must have been breaking their fasts with Hoster Tully to discuss the particulars of their alliance, if such a thing were to be agreed upon.

“Yes, Princess Rhaenys. The discussions have turned to… well it will be better to have you there, Sansa.” Edmure said, a grimace on his face.

Sansa grew concerned as she followed him out, wondering what could possibly necessitate her presence.

“Is everything all right, Uncle Edmure?” she asked as they hurried up a small staircase.

“My father is a very stubborn man, Sansa. He is set in his ways and does not much like when those ways are challenged, even by kings. It does not help that he is being given heavy medicines and herbs for his pains that might muddle his mind.” Edmure answered, shaking his head.

“He is not arguing with King Rhaegar, is he?” she said warily.

The look that her uncle sent her was enough for her to feel as hesitant as him to enter the conversation. Once they reached the door, Sansa smoothed her dress down and ensured that her hair was perfect before entering with Edmure. The three men were seated at a table meant for six, Rhaegar and Jon across from an older and sickly looking man that she assumed to be her grandfather. The king and his son stood out of respect for her and Sansa sank into a curtsy, her heart leaping as she looked upon Jon once more.

“Your Grace, my prince…” she hesitated, glancing up at Hoster Tully. “Lord Tully.”

He held his hand out to her and she crossed the room, taking it.

“You are the image of your mother at your age. That is her old dress that you are wearing, you know?”

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise and she glanced down at the gown as she processed the information.

“Did you receive my gift?” Hoster asked, regaining her attention.

She looked up at him and nodded quickly.

“It was very kind, my lord.”

He waved her off, gesturing for her to sit next to him.

“Call me grandfather, if you like.” he said as Edmure pulled the chair out for her and pushed it in once she was seated.

Rhaegar and Jon sat once more, both looking slightly stressed by whatever was going on with her mother’s father. When Sansa’s eyes met with the prince’s, his face relaxed slightly and he gave her a small smile that she returned with ease.

“I’ve called you to settle a disagreement that I am having with the king. His council will be convening as soon as his allies from Dragonstone arrive and I pushed for a Northern representative to sit with us.”

Sansa frowned, wondering who they could possibly want to represent the North. Surely no one from the South could do so. When they all looked at her, she immediately understood.

“Oh, grandfather, I cannot do such a thing. I am not a true representative of the North. I have not been there in ten namedays.” she refused, shaking her head.

“You are as Northern as you are Tully. It is a perfectly sensible thing to do. The king is concerned that you may not be able to handle matters within the council as the talk will turn to the oncoming war more often than not.”

“I think that he may be right. I do not know what I am speaking of. You would do better to call for a true Northern man to attend the council. Perhaps an Umber or a Karstark. Or even my father, a seasoned man of war. He would be the better option rather than a silly little girl who doesn’t even know how to wield a sword, much less decide on such matters.” Sansa said.

Rhaegar looked as though she made her point for her, making Sansa frown. She knew that she did not belong on such a council but to see someone else agree made her feel a certain amount of offense. Jon looked frustrated, shaking his head. He obviously disagreed with both her and his father.

“Your boy there is as green as they come and he will be given a spot on the council, am I correct?” Hoster asked, nodding at Jon.

“My son is heir to the throne of Westeros and will succeed me upon my death.” Rhaegar said coolly.

“Does that make him any more qualified to help make decisions of the wellbeing of the country? When does my granddaughter’s opinion matter as much as your son’s? When she kills a man? From what I heard of your journey, you allowed her to be attacked by a bandit and she drove a knife into his gut.”

Sansa paled at the reminder of the man crowding on her and his blade pressed threateningly to her throat. She twisted her fingers into her dress, clutching at it as she tried to banish the images from her mind. It was only when she felt that her chest was tightening and breathing grew difficult that she stood. The men all ceased talking and she realized that they had been arguing once more as she faded out. Sansa crossed to the open window and stared out, pressing her hand to her breast as she breathed in the cool, fresh air.

She closed her eyes at the breeze that ruffled her hair. Sansa could almost imagine her mother standing here, watching over the city that she was raised in as she listened to her father argue with his councilors. Perhaps she awaited her husband’s return from the war in this very room, Robb growing in her womb. When a warm hand pressed against the small of her back, Sansa was torn from the vision and she looked over to see Jon holding a cup of wine for her. Sansa gave him a grateful look, taking it in shaking hands. She sipped at it slowly, looking back out at the river that ran alongside the castle.

“What do you think?” she murmured, wanting to hear his opinion.

Jon didn’t answer right away and she wondered if he even heard her.

“Your grandfather is right. It is your right as a representative of the North. There is also the truth of your time with the Lannisters in Casterly Rock, where they had no reason to guard against their nature. You are the only person who could really know what their habits could be other than Jaime Lannister, who might only cooperate if you are given a spot on the council.” he said in a low voice, his head tilted closer to hers.

Sansa took a deep breath, letting his scent of leather and sandalwood calm her down.

“What if I prove to be no help at all?” she questioned, still staring out of the window.

She felt his thumb tracing soothing circles in her back even through her dress.

“I doubt that will happen. You are the reason we are here at all. Without you, we would still be trying to find a way to Dragonstone and would have probably been dragged back to King’s Landing for trying.” Jon assured her.

Sansa sighed, reaching down to clasp his other hand in hers.

“If she does not remain here to advise you as a representative of the North, I must insist that she is returned to her family.” Hoster said from behind her.

“She is a ward of the crown.” Rhaegar reminded the older man.

“And yet sending her home would be a sign of good faith. Such an act may earn you the armies of the North as well.” her grandfather countered.

Sansa sighed, resisting the urge to bury her face in Jon’s chest to drown out everything else.

“Shouldn’t she have an opinion?” Edmure wondered.

They all grew silent and Sansa took a deep breath, knowing that they were waiting on her.

“Sansa?” Hoster said, pushing her for an answer.

She felt overwhelmed and frustrated that these men, one of which she only just met, were trying to decide her future. Her eyes flickered up to Jon to see him giving her an understanding look. She nodded at him before turning to look at the others at the same time as the prince.

“I would be willing to serve on a council for the king if my presence is desired. My grandfather is right. There should be a representative of the North willing to speak for my father’s bannermen and perhaps even to gain their pledges of fealty.” Sansa said, steeling herself for any reaction.

Rhaegar looked hesitant, glancing at his son.

“I won’t attend council meetings unless she is allowed to be present.” Jon decided.

Sansa looked up at him with surprise, not expecting him to say such a thing.

“And if my own bannermen do not like the idea of a woman on the war council?” Rhaegar questioned, looking straight at his son.

“It is only a temporary measure until a proper Northern representative can arrive in Riverrun.” Sansa suggested.

They all shared looks, wondering whether the king would agree to such an arrangement.

“What of my son? He is half-Stark and his blood is of the North as well as the South. Can he not serve as a representative of the North?” Rhaegar wondered.

“He bears the name Targaryen, no matter his familial relations. It will not be the same.” Hoster said confidently.

“Jon is as much of a wolf as he is a dragon.” Sansa broke in, countering her grandfather’s words.

They all stared in surprise at the vehemence in her words. Before anyone could say anything more, a loud knock sounded on the door. They all turned as the steward hurried in, looking torn between who to address.

“My lord, a raven has come with news.” he said to Hoster.

Sansa watched as her grandfather stared at the king for several more moments before reaching out for his son. Edmure leapt up, helping his father to stand.

“By your leave, we shall revisit this, Your Grace.” he said, wheezing out a cough as he straightened up.

Rhaegar nodded once in agreement and dismissal. Edmure helped Hoster walk out of the room, leaving Sansa alone with the king and his son. Rhaegar leaned forward, staring down at the table with his hands crossed beneath his chin and his elbows on the wood.

“Your Grace, I apologize if my grandfather offends or insults you. He is not himself, as I am told. His sickness has overwhelmed him for many months and the maester has been administering medicines to ease his pains. It is possible that they are affecting his mind and his actions as well as his words,” Sansa said, stepping forward with a concerned look on her face. “I am certain that he meant well. If it would displease you, I will not push for a place on the council. I know it is not my place to demand such things and my grandfather, if he were himself, would likely see that there is no sense in trying to force his way upon you.”

She hoped that he would accept her words and not feel anger towards her grandfather. Sansa did not want another war fighting between her mother’s family and the royal family over a few passionate words shared in this solar.

“You are very sensible, Lady Sansa.” Rhaegar said, sitting back in his seat.

Sansa did not know what he meant by his words but knew better than to question him. When Rhaegar nodded at Jon, she knew that it was a dismissal. They walked out together once she set her cup of wine down. Once they were down the hall and away from the solar, Jon took her hand and pulled her in close.

“Are you all right with that? Being on the council if my father allows it?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, looking down at her feet.

“I’m truly not sure. I want to help, I do. I wish to make my family in the North proud, as well as my mother’s family. They have every reason to doubt my loyalties, considering my time spent with the Lannisters as well as my insistence on keeping Jaime at my side.”

Jon shook his head, putting his hands on her cheeks.

“No one should doubt your loyalties, Sansa. You have done much to help us, even at the expense of your own health.”

Sansa nodded at him, reaching up to cup a hand over his.

“Whether your father decides to let me have a seat or not, I do not want you forsaking your rightful place in his council.”

He looked like he would argue but she put a finger over his lips.

“It is your duty, Jon. All that you would do is put doubt in people’s minds over the kind of ruler you will be one day. I know that you are a good, smart man. Now they need to know it too. You are likely going to be leading these men in war alongside your father. They need to trust you.” Sansa said, reaching up to brush a curl out of his face.

Jon hesitated before nodding, agreeing to her words. When a mischievous look came over his face, Sansa did not have to wait long to wonder what it meant. He backed her towards the wall, putting his hands on either side of her. She grinned back at him, her hand playing with the collar of his doublet.

“You left me rather abruptly last night, my prince.” she said, pushing her lower lip out in a mock pout.

“I thought you would like the time with your friend.” Jon replied, leaning down towards her.

Sansa sighed, turning her head to the side to keep him from kissing her.

“I do not know that I believe your reasoning.”

Jon trailed kisses along her jaw, one of his hands dropping to rest on her hip.

“My apologies, dearest Sansa.” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine when he nipped at her earlobe.

She slid her hand into his hair, leaning her head back as he moved his mouth to her throat. When he kissed over her pulse and scraped his teeth lightly against her skin, she let out a small whimper.

“Gods, Jon.” Sansa breathed, clutching at him.

“They have nothing to do with it, sweet lady.” he murmured.

She let out a laugh, tugging at his curls. Jon groaned, pulling her closer so that their bodies melded together completely. His arms wrapped around her back to keep her anchored to him.

“You are a danger to have around.” he said.

“I am a danger?” Sansa said with disbelief, pulling away to look him in the eyes.

Jon nodded at her, confirming his words.

“Perhaps it is better if you are not granted a spot on the council. I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes and mind off of you long enough to concentrate on more serious matters.” he said, ducking his head to press a soft kiss to the top of her breasts that peeked out from the dress.

Sansa let out a cross between a whimper and a moan, clutching at his dark hair.

“You are a wicked man, my prince.”

He let out a grumble, laying his forehead against her chest.

“Jon.” he commanded.

Sansa smiled, knowing that he liked it much better when she used his name rather than his title.

“Jon.” she said, purposefully making her voice husky as she drew his name out on her lips.

He lifted his head, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was passionate almost to the point of rough but in a way that lit her aflame rather than the painful way that Joffrey forced his mouth upon hers. Sansa sucked his lower lip into her teeth and bit down lightly, drawing a growl from him. She smiled and swept her tongue across his lip apologetically. Jon’s own tongue delved into her mouth as he kissed her until she grew dizzy, breaking away to gasp for air. Sansa’s hands clung to his shoulders, using him to keep her upright.

“If you keep kissing me like that, we shall never leave this spot.” she said, making no attempt to step away from him.

“Then by all means, let us continue.” Jon said, leaning into her once more.

Sansa let out a laugh but pushed against him, knowing that they had other responsibilities.

“Perhaps we shall go inquire as to your sister’s whereabouts. For she must be bored without our companionship.” she suggested.

Jon stared at her with disbelief.

“You want to go to my sister? Now?” he asked, rolling his hips against hers.

Sansa gasped, gripping him tightly as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“What happened to… wanting to preserve my honor?” she wondered as he nosed at her throat.

“Well, you never did let me tell you of my thoughts, my new vow to you. You were distracted by Jaime Lannister.” Jon reminded her.

She remembered cutting him off and flushed shamefully.

“Then, by all means…”

Sansa cut off when they heard footsteps, both of them looking to see that Jaime was approaching with a smirk on his face. She almost groaned, letting her head fall against Jon’s shoulder at the irony of the situation. She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was glaring at the older man.

“As much as I hate to break this up, your presence is requested in Lord Tully’s private audience chamber.” he said with a smirk.

They could both hear the arrogant pleasure in his voice at having interrupted them and this time, Sansa turned her head to glare at him as well.

“We’ll be along in a moment.” Sansa said.

“My lady, they really are insisting.” Jaime said, amusement shining in his eyes.

She gave him a cold look, raising any eyebrow at him.

“In a moment.” she repeated slowly, making it known that she was not asking for permission.

Jaime nodded, bowing to her.

“As my lady commands. Shall I remain here to protect you?”

“Go, Jaime!”

He laughed and turned, walking off as he whistled contentedly. When Sansa turned to look at Jon once more, she expected to see annoyance on his face. Instead, he was looking at her with unabashed amusement and appreciation.

“What?” Sansa said.

“You were so very dismissive and impatient. I liked that.” Jon said approvingly, putting his arms around her waist.

“Oh you just liked that it was Jaime being dismissed and not you.” she said, shaking her head with a smile.

He shrugged, looking unashamed.

“That’s part of it, yes.” Jon agreed.

Sansa laughed and let him kiss her but not for too long. She did not want to get sidetracked once more.

“Tell me, my lovely Jon, what is your vow to me?” Sansa urged, pushing him away to look in his dark eyes.

He sighed, taking both of her hands in his.

“I vow to honor you…” he began, making her shoulders slump and a sigh to escape from her mouth.

Sansa thought that they were about to be right back where they started but Jon gave her a look before continuing.

“I vow to honor you in every manner possible. I promise to hear your words and listen to them. For too long, your choices have been taken away from you and dictated by other people, including my own father. I will not be another person on that list. I vow to let you choose for yourself because it is unfair of me to assume such a command over you. In return, I ask you to honor me as well. Honor my decisions and my comforts. That is how I want us to be. I want us to be certain in each other, to know that there is nothing to be afraid of when we’re around each other. I want us to speak freely and to be ourselves rather than having to hide who we are in each other’s presence. So I vow to you, Sansa Stark, my sweet, beautiful girl, to honor you.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, clutching his hands tightly.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa breathed, only sensing her tears when one slid down her cheek.

He reached up to brush it away, waiting for her to speak again.

“You are just… too kind.” she said, burying her head in his chest.

Jon let out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her once more. One of them slid around her back to hold her steady against him and the other cradled her head, his fingers running through her hair.

“Is there a such thing?” he asked.

“There is when I cannot think of parting with you for a moment without feeling pained. You have given me so much and it seems that you expect almost nothing in return. I just fear that it will all be taken away. I am afraid that I will wake up and be back at Casterly Rock with Joffrey terrorizing me again and that you will have been just a dream.” Sansa admitted, turning her head up towards him.

Jon shook his head, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You are never going back there again. And Joffrey will never lay hands on you again. I promise you this.” he said solemnly.

“I believe you. I trust you so much, Jon. More than I ever thought I could trust again.” Sansa assured him, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He smiled at her before kissing her softly.

“Perhaps we should go to the audience chamber.” He said, pulling away from her.

Sansa sighed before nodding, knowing that they could not delay it forever. They walked through the halls with her arm in his, meeting Jaime outside of the chamber.

“Not a word.” Sansa warned him as he opened his mouth.

“I only wanted to bid you good morning.” he defended himself.

Sansa just rolled her eyes at him before entering the private room. The royal family was standing with her uncle whilst Hoster sat on his great chair. He looked exhausted but no one dared to point it out.

“What has happened?” Jon asked, seeing the wary looks on everyone’s faces.

Rhaegar was the one to break the silence.

“A raven came. The lords of Dragonstone and the surrounding areas are a day’s ride from Riverrun. They will arrive soon. But that is not all of the news. Stannis Baratheon has sent out ravens to each corner of Westeros announcing his support for our cause rather than that of the boy meant to be his nephew.”

Sansa quickly figured out his words, as did the rest of them.

“Meant to be?” Jon asked, frowning at him.

He nodded, glancing past her. Sansa turned to see Jaime standing there, an emotionless mask on his face.

“It would seem that he believes that Cersei’s children are not Robert’s children. In fact, Stannis is certain of it and declares that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are bastards.”

They all looked back at the king with wide eyes. Sansa reached down, clenching her hand in Jon’s as she realized the implications of this news. If Robert Baratheon did not father Cersei’s children, then who did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns a horrible secret. Rhaegar's council meets. More than one surprise guest shows up at Riverrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the end of the chapter. You will probably hate me.
> 
> Thank you to all of you amazing people.

"You haven't asked me yet."

Sansa tilted her head up from the book that she was reading, giving Jaime a quizzical look.

"Asked you?" she said.

"I know that they want you to ask me what I know of Cersei and her children. Why haven't you?" Jaime wondered.

Sansa sighed, her eyes returning to the text.

"I told them that if they want to know, they should ask you themselves. It is none of my concern." she said simply despite her overwhelming curiosity.

She was certain that Jaime knew. He had to know. When Cersei would visit, Sansa would often spot them at meals and in the gardens with their heads bent close together as they spoke in low, conspiratorial tones. They were close as any siblings could be. _And no closer_ , her mind hissed. Sansa shuddered at the thought, closing her eyes against it.

"And if I know who the father is?" Jaime asked.

Sansa opened her eyes and turned to look at him once more.

"Keep it to yourself. I do not wish to know." she said, speaking more harshly than she ever had to her friend.

Jaime looked at her with surprise but didn't get the chance to voice his thoughts as a knock sounded on her door. Sansa gathered her skirts and stood, crossing her solar to open the door. A servant stood there, his eyes downcast.

"They are ready for you, my lady." he said.

Sansa felt a shock of surprise, not expecting the invitation. She glanced back at Jaime and nodded, watching as he went from friend to shield, his back straightening and his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He followed Sansa through the corridors of the castle all the way the chamber where the council meetings were taking place. There were several men standing outside of the large wooden door watching as they approached.

"You are not needed, Lannister." one of the guards said, sneering at him.

Sansa recognized the sigil on his armor as that of House Celtigar.

"He is my sworn shield. Where I go, he goes." she said in a cold voice, daring him to argue.

The guard remained silent, simply reaching back to open the door so that she may enter. Sansa glanced back at Jaime and nodded at him, a silent plea for him to try not to engage the other men in a fight. As she entered, her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing quickened. Yet she did not let her nervousness show on her face. Sansa held her head high and her shoulders back, her hands clasped demurely before her olive green dress. Her hair was twisted into a bun at the crown of her head with a few tendrils hanging around her face. The only jewelry that she wore was the direwolf necklace, a reminder of why she was here both for herself and for all of the men who were staring at her. Jon was the first to stand, shooting her a comforting smile.

"Lady Sansa." the king said, standing up as well.

The rest of the men did the same, mimicking their king as they all stood in deference to her.

"Your Grace." she said, sinking into a graceful curtsy.

Sansa lifted her head to look around at the dozen lords who looked down on her.

"My lords." she said with the sweetest smile that she could muster.

Their respect would come, she would make sure of it. But until then, they would have no cause to complain about her attitude or loyalty. When Rhaegar gestured for her to stand, Edmure stepped out from his chair to offer his arm to her. Sansa took it and allowed him to lead her to her seat between himself and her grandfather. They all sat down once she was in the chair. She ignored the hostile looks shot her way, thanking the servant who brought her a cup of wine.

“After debating with these lords, we have decided to allow you a temporary seat on the council.” Rhaegar told her.

“You have decided, Your Grace, against the advice of many of your councilors.” Lord Sunglass reminded him.

Sansa didn’t even look his way, concentrating her attention on the king.

“I will attempt to do my best for the true king.” she said softly, nodding at him.

Rhaegar nodded back at her but his council was not convinced.

“A woman has no place here. Especially not one so young as this. Even the queen knows that her place is not within the war councils.” Another lord said vehemently.

Sansa fought the urge to narrow her eyes at him as her hand clutched at the cup.

“There needs to be a representative of the North.” Hoster broke in, restating his argument.

“Who says we need the North? They didn’t fight for us in the last war and we still won.” Lord Celtigar insisted.

She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, causing them all to look at her.

“A man, especially one of the South, would not be blamed for forgetting that the North is the size of all the other six kingdoms combined. If you think you are matched with the Lannisters and their armies now, which you aren’t, think of how much greater your chances of winning will be with the might of the North on your side.”

Lord Sunglass scoffed, shaking his head.

“The might of the North,” he said doubtfully. “Sullen men who speak of nothing but winter and their old gods, who believe in grumpkins and snarks and white walkers and wights.”

Jon looked angry, his jaw clenching as he leaned forward.

“Have care how you speak, my lord,” he warned, his eyes darkening. “You may not agree with Lady Sansa’s presence here but you will show her respect as the daughter of Eddard Stark who is still Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

The lords all quieted, looking as though they wanted to speak out but did not dare to do so against the king’s heir.

“What numbers might the North bring?” Rhaegar questioned.

“At least twenty thousand, if not more. But that is only if they are given reason to come.” Hoster answered.

“Reason? Other than their king’s orders.” Lord Celtigar said angrily.

“The Starks and their bannermen have sworn fealty to my father and nothing more. They are not his bannermen nor are they duty-bound to protect him in war. It is their choice.” Jon said vehemently.

Sansa felt particularly warm towards him, relieved that she did not have to anger these men by speaking the same words, though they burned within her.

“So we send a delegation to Winterfell and convince Lord Stark.” Lord Velaryon suggested.

“A group of Southron men with dragons on their banners will be no more welcome than a Lannister in those lands.” Edmure said, shaking his head.

“Well we certainly won’t trust you to do it.” Lord Sunglass raged, glaring at the Lord of Riverrun and his son.

“You are not in your own castle and while you are in mine, I demand that you show respect to my house and my family.” Hoster said angrily.

“Enough!”

Everyone cut off at Rhaegar’s voice, all looking at him.

“We shall decide what to do about the North in the future. It will only be a matter of time before my brother focuses his army on Riverrun and we will need to be prepared. Find a way to bring your men here, all of them. My queen is writing letters to Dorne asking for their assistance and Stannis Baratheon is sending a part of his army here until he can join us.”

“Why does the girl not write to her father?” Lord Velaryon asked.

Sansa knew that he was speaking to her and she stared back at him. Despite her frustration with the way that these lords were talking, she looked at him with a kind smile.

“It has been years since my family received word from me. They would worry if the first letter that I write to them contains a plea for them to join the Targaryens in a war. I know that you would not force me to do such a thing, my lord, but it would be suspicious nonetheless and I am certain that other lords would suggest that it was my writing but another man’s words.” Sansa said, keeping her tone light and good-natured.

“She is right. We will wait. For now, let us focus on the armies that are coming to our defense and the Lannisters that will be coming.”

Everyone looked at Sansa and she stared back, wondering why they were looking to her.

“What will Tywin do?” Jon asked, nodding encouragingly at her.

Sansa let out a startled laugh, unable to keep it to herself.

“It is not as though the man shared his secrets of battle with me. Some of you have fought with him and you would know better than I.” she said, looking around with disbelief.

“He will know that we have fought with him and he will do his best to avoid any predictable moves. Therefore, you need to think, girl. You need to recall every conversation that you ever had with him, every word he said, every discussion he had within your hearing.” Lord Celtigar pushed her.

She felt panic filling her at his words and tried her best to keep it from her face. Sansa hated the urge to cry and scream at them that she did not know, that she did not think she would ever speak to them about such things. Suddenly, she recalled a conversation with Cersei that took place several years ago.

_“Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. Think on that every time that you cry, girl. Kings and lords will always bend to your will if you show them your tears but they will also think you weak. If you show them your acuity, they will respect you. They will look to you and know that men are not always the greatest minds of the world.”_

The woman told her that after Sansa’s first moonblood. In the absence of any other female there to help her, Cersei took it upon herself to inform Sansa of the truth of being a woman, however condescendingly. She had asked why she did it, wondering what possessed Cersei to help her even in the slightest.

_“I was not born to be a woman, little dove. However, I must live with what the gods have given me and compensate for the rest. I am tired of being the weaker sex. You will come to feel the same, I promise you. You have the same look as I did when I was your age, the same dissatisfaction. Men and their assumptions, their desires, their power… they will try to stamp you down. You will have the ability to stop them. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon, Sansa. The best one is between your legs. Learn how to use it.”_

Sansa flushed, pulling herself out of her thoughts.

“He will not outright attack you,” she finally spoke, trying to make her voice strong. “Tywin will seek to dismantle the opposition before it even begins. He will want to ensure that that you have spies of his in your camp, that even your allies are on his side. He will use gold, power, and lands to seduce men into his loyalty.”

“How would he do that?” Edmure said.

“The damned Freys,” Hoster said, spitting out the name as if they were poison. “I haven’t been to one of Lord Walder’s weddings in years and he’s always taken those bloody things seriously and failure to attend as an insult. He’s a riotous old man who has more loyalty to gold and power than the Riverlands. If they will get anyone on their side, it’s the damned Freys.”

“What do we do, Your Grace?” Lord Sunglass asked, looking at Rhaegar.

He was looking at Sansa with consideration before glancing at Jon.

“My son?” the king asked, wanting his thoughts.

Jon glanced around the table before his eyes rested on Sansa. Whatever he saw in her gaze must have strengthened him because the uncertain expression melted from his face and was replaced with surety.

“Send a few men to the Twins and tell him to shoot down every raven that nears the castle with a bow and arrow. If he is disloyal we will know.” Jon said confidently.

The men murmured in agreement, nodding at the king.

“That is what we shall do,” Rhaegar decided. “Lord Tully?”

Hoster nodded at him.

“I will send my best archers.” he said.

With that decided, Sansa glanced around, sensing that there was something else that they wanted to speak of.

“What of marriage?” Lord Velaryon questioned.

She froze, her fingers gripping at her gown as her eyes flickered downwards.

“Yes, there are many options. Your children as well as your sister are unmarried. Alliances can be made with ease.” Lord Celtigar threw in.

Sansa knew that Jon’s eyes were on her.

“Or a match can be made to assure Westeros of the stability of their future monarch. Your heir may not be amenable to wedding his sister but perhaps a marriage to Daenerys would settle well with him.”

Her eyes flickered up, finding Jon’s with alarm in them. He was speechless, staring at the lords who were trying to decide his future. Rhaegar was looking around at them as though he was considering his options. When his eyes fell on her, a chill ran down Sansa’s spine and she felt her stomach churn.

“Lady Sansa? Would you agree to an alliance made for the sake of your true king?” he asked.

She knew what he was searching for, any indication of what she wanted. Rhaegar chose Lyanna so many years ago and now he was giving her a choice. Sansa’s thoughts screamed at her to say something, to claim Jon before all of these men.

“I feel ill, Your Grace,” she said, standing suddenly. “Might I be dismissed?”

He frowned at her and she didn’t dare to look at Jon for fear of what she would see.

“You may be.” Rhaegar nodded.

Sansa turned away, walking towards the door slowly. Once she reached it and stepped out into the hall, she ignored the guards as well as Jaime, stepping away from the council chamber. She was mere steps away from it when she hitched her skirts up to her ankles.

“Sansa?”

She thought it might have been Jaime but she wasn’t sure. Sansa did not listen, hurrying down the hall. Her breaths came out roughly as she sped up, soon breaking out into a run. Her slippers were left behind and she did not care, putting as much space between herself and the council chamber as she could. She did not realize that she was running to her chambers until she was inside, slumped against the wall. Jaime did not take long to enter, his long legs enabling him to keep up with her easily.

“What happened?” he asked.

Sansa shook her head, clutching at her bodice.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe.” she gasped out, ripping at the laces at her back.

“Sansa… Sansa stop.” Jaime said, catching her hands in his.

She fought back her tears as he unlaced her as quickly as she could. When the pressure on her chest loosened, Sansa stepped away from him and hurried to a window, throwing it open. She breathed in the cool air, pressing her hand to her chest.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Sansa said, leaning onto the windowsill.

“What doesn’t?” Jaime asked, confused.

She turned towards him.

“I have done the calculations. I was not in Casterly Rock for Joffrey’s and Myrcella’s births but I remember Tommen’s. And I remember that Cersei came to visit with her children before she came to be with child. Exactly nine months before she had Tommen,” Sansa said, her tone becoming more and more accusing. “Everyone thought that she simply had short pregnancies, that all of her children were premature for a reason. They just didn’t know the reason.”

Jaime paled more and more at her words and Sansa took it as an admission of guilt.

“What did you do, Jaime?” she hissed.

“Sansa, please…” he said, stepping forward.

Sansa seized a cup on the table next to her, launching it at his head. He ducked just in time, allowing it to sail over him and out the door. They both heard the loud clatter in the corridor as it hit the wall with surprising force.

“I trusted you! I spoke up for you! I told them that you were good!” she shouted at him, anger coursing through her.

She knew that there were many different reasons that she was feeling so furious but this was the problem set before her at the moment.

“Do you even know all that your bastard did to me?” Sansa demanded, her voice quieting so that she was less likely to be heard.

As angry as she was with Jaime, she did not wish for him to be killed for this. Before he could say anything, Jon ran through the door, looking between them with wide eyes.

“Sansa…” he began.

She shook her head, still focused on Jaime.

“Leave me, now.” Sansa said, glaring at him.

“Just let me…”

“I do not want your explanations, Jaime Lannister. I want to see you walking out of that door and I do not want you to return if I do not ask for you.” she cut him off.

Jaime looked at her for a moment before glancing at Jon. Finally, seeing that there would be no reprieve, he turned to walk out. Sansa stepped away, breathing heavily as she reached for something to steady herself on. Jon stepped forward warily, holding his hands out.

“Are you going to throw something at me as well?”

She let out a cross between a laugh and a sob, sinking to the ground. He ran forward and caught her, falling on his knees with her. Jon held her close as she curled into his chest, her face pressed into his shoulder. Sansa refused to cry, breathing deeply as he stroked his fingers through her hair.

“I could not bear it, Jon,” Sansa said in a low, strangled voice. “I cannot watch you marry another, kiss another, love another…”

“I couldn’t.” Jon said, pulling away from her.

He put his hands on her cheeks and his dark grey eyes stared into hers.

“There will be no other, not when I have you. They can talk and plan all they want but they cannot force me into their sept. I will kneel in front of a Heart Tree one day and I will say my vows to only one woman. Only you, Sansa.”

Sansa brought him close to her, pressing her lips to his gently. She threw her arms around him and moved her face away from his, pressing her face into his neck. Jon’s hands slid around her back only to feel that her laces were undone.

“I couldn’t breathe.” Sansa whispered, answering his unspoken question.

Jon pulled away from her, looking deep into her eyes. His hands tugged at the laces, loosening them even more. Sansa let out a gasp when his hand tugged the gown off of her shoulder and moved the shift out of the way. His head lowered and he began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the bared skin. She tilted her head back, her hands clutching in his hair as he lavished her body with the caresses.

“Jon.” Sansa breathed, letting her eyelids flutter closed.

It wasn’t until they heard footsteps approaching quickly that Jon lifted his head.

“Oh, my lady!” her maid said, looking at them with surprise before flushing and glancing away.

Jon lifted the gown onto her shoulder once more, helping her stand.

“Come, help her dress.” He said, gesturing to the maid.

The woman glanced at him strangely before hurrying to lace Sansa’s dress. When she saw Jon lay her slippers at her feet, she smiled gratefully at him.

“What is it, Rose?” she said, remembering the maid’s rush.

“There’s a man at the gates. He rode through and started asking for you, both of you. Says he knows you.” Rose answered.

Sansa glanced at Jon, sharing his confused look. Who would come to Riverrun only to ask for Sansa and Jon? Once she was laced up and her shoes were on her feet, Sansa hurried out alongside Jon. Their hands found each other, entwining as they made their way to the Great Hall and out into the yard. Sure enough, they saw a crowd of guards as well as Edmure standing with a familiar man.

“Sam!” Jon said, a smile forming on his face as they recognized him.

He turned to look at them, his eyes wide and a relieved look on his face.

“My prince.” Samwell said, hurrying forward as fast as he could.

“I’ve told you, call me Jon.” he said, yanking the other young man into a hug.

Sansa watched with a smile as they embraced like long lost brothers. When Jon released him, Sam turned to her and bowed.

“My lady.” he said.

“Sansa, Sam. Call me Sansa.” she corrected him, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

Sam flushed, looking pleased at her greeting.

“What are you doing here, Sam? We heard that your father has allied with the Lannisters.” Jon said.

He nodded at him, glancing around with uncertainty.

“Can we go somewhere?” he asked.

Jon glanced at Sansa and she nodded, leading them towards the library tower. They quickly hurried up, seating themselves in front of the fire when they ensured that no one else was there.

“I heard them talking about what happened in King’s Landing when they thought I wasn’t there, my father and my brother. I told him it wasn’t right, what they did to you and your family. I told him I wouldn’t fight. They dismissed me at first but later, my father came to me.”

Sam hesitated, glancing between them. Sansa could tell that he was afraid. She glanced at Jon where he was seated beside her before reaching out to take his hand.

“It’s all right, Sam. You can tell us what he said.” she encouraged him.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

“He came to me and spoke to me. _You’re almost a man now_ , he said, _but you’re not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you’re going to start north to the Wall and take the black, forsake all claim to your inheritance. If you do not, he said, then we’ll have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods, your horse will stumble, and you’ll be thrown from your saddle to die, or so I’ll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more_.”

Sansa’s look was horrified, her other hand reaching out to hold Jon’s. He clenched her hand tightly and she knew that he was already angry.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to come here but I don’t want to go to the Wall. I am… I am not brave enough. I thought that if I came to you, if I pledged my loyalty to your father, that I could stay here. I can find some way to help, I promise. I just can’t fight, Jon. I’m a coward and I’ll be no help.” Sam said quickly, pleading with him.

“You do not have to fight, Sam,” Jon said, reaching out to clap a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll find something for you to do, I promise.”

Their friend sighed with relief, looking at him gratefully.

“Thank you, prin… Jon.” Sam said in a shaking voice, unable to truly voice how grateful he was.

Jon sat back, taking a deep breath as he stared into the fire. Sansa held his hand, rubbing circles into it.

“I wanted to go to the Wall, before everything. I actually planned on asking my father after his nameday celebrations.” He admitted.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Sansa had never heard of this before.

“Why didn’t you?” Sam asked curiously.

Jon’s head turned and he looked straight at Sansa.

“A lot changed.” he said.

She smiled at him.

“What did you want to do there?” Sam said.

Jon turned his attention to him, shrugging.

“I always wanted to be a ranger.”

Sam nodded, looking down at his hands.

“I always wanted to be a wizard.” he said casually.

Sansa and Jon stared at him for a moment before they both broke out into laughter, Jon’s deep chuckling and her melodious peals filling the room.

“What? I’m serious!” Sam said, glancing between them.

Jon tossed his head back as Sansa doubled over, both laughing more than they had since what happened in the capital. Their hands were still entwined, pressed together in an unbreakable hold. When she glanced over at him and saw the amused sparkle in his eye, Sansa grinned even wider. She knew that they had many barriers and hardships to face but she knew that he was with her as she was with him. That thought was enough to make her think that it could carry them through anything.

Suddenly they heard bells clanging and they all sobered, looking up with wide eyes. Jon leapt up and they were just behind him, hurrying out to see what the fuss was. The others were in the yard, all standing around with panicked expressions.

“What is it?” Jon asked, hurrying to his father.

Rhaenys ran to Sansa, clutching at her arm.

“An army approaches.” Rhaegar said, looking concerned.

“Who’s army? Loyal to the Lannisters or loyal to us?” the prince questioned.

Rhaegar looked at him with a frown before his eyes flickered to Sansa.

“Loyal to her.”


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes face to face with the new visitors to Riverrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very relaxed chapter where no new real plot development happens. I was originally going to wait a little while longer for this to happen but I thought that you guys deserved something good for sticking with me for this long and being so amazing. So this is my gift to you, I hope that you like it.

**Sansa**

Sansa hurried ahead of the others, her skirts lifted in one hand as she darted up the steps. Jon was close behind her, his hand clutched in hers. They rushed up onto the outer sandstone walls of Riverrun, looking out at the lands surrounding the castle as well as the two rivers. Men were already setting up tents in many different colors with banners flying high in the sky. Her hands gripped the battlements on the wall as she looked upon the sea of grey and white that seemed to make up most of the tents and banners. They all watched as Rhaegar rode out with Elia to greet them, the Kingsguard all around them.

“Seven hells, how did this happen?” Edmure wondered.

“You did not call upon them?” Rhaenys asked.

“I didn’t think it to be my place. If anything, I thought you would ask Sansa to call upon them.” he said, nodding at his niece.

Sansa barely heard anything, facing away from each of them. The wind picked up, throwing her fiery locks into disarray.

“Sansa?” Jon said, touching her arm.

She did not look at him, staring out into the distance.

“I do not know that I can do this, Jon.” she whispered.

He reached up and grasped her chin lightly, turning her head towards his.

“I know that you can.” he said, staring into her eyes.

Sansa allowed herself to be lost in his gaze.

“What if they hate me?” she asked.

“Impossible.”

She relaxed into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to ride out?” Jon asked.

She looked up at him with a frown.

“I thought we agreed that the king and queen would go first.” Sansa reminded him.

“My father and your grandfather agreed. We said nothing.” Jon said before seizing her hand.

Sansa allowed him to pull her away, glancing back at the others before hurrying back down to the yard with him. Rhaenys was behind them, refusing to allow herself to be left behind. Jon commanded one of the stable hands to saddle their horses as two maids hurried up with Rhaenys and Sansa’s boots.

“How did you…”

“Ser Jaime, my lady. He instructed that they be brought to you.”

Sansa looked around and saw him hovering at the entrance to the Great Hall, uncertainty clear in his expression. She sighed and glanced away as she slid her riding boots on. Before she turned away from him, she nodded at him. Jon stepped up beside her and she allowed him to help her onto her horse. He climbed on his own after her before turning his horse to ride beside hers as Rhaenys took the other side. The three of them rode towards the gate and the guards opened without hesitation, knowing better than to question the king’s children.

They rode across the bride over the Tumblestone River and towards the camp. Sansa kept her back straight and her chin tilted up, a solemn look on her face. Jon did not have to try to school his emotions, allowing his face to fall into the polite detachment that Sansa had not seen in ages. She was immensely glad that he did not have to use that expression on her anymore. Rhaenys was looking around with a pleasant look but no smile formed on her face. She was clearly unsure how to act in front of the northern men who cared not for the southron ways that she grew up learning. Sansa wondered how it looked to the men who stopped in their tracks to watch as they rode through the camp. But most looked to Sansa, taking note of the daughter of their lord and warden. She was torn between meeting their eyes and staring straight ahead, unsure of what she would see in their looks.

“The gods bless you, Lady Sansa!” a man called out.

She looked around with surprise as more cheers rose up. They accepted her as Ned Stark’s daughter, not the ward of the Lannisters. They believed her to be of the North. A radiant smile formed on her face and she found herself nodding at the men, feeling her heart swell with pride.

**Catelyn**

She was impatient enough as they rode to Riverrun without being told to remain in the camp. Catelyn knew why she was to remain there. The king did not likely know what to make of the sudden army that surrounded his safe haven. But she did not care to cater to Rhaegar’s insecurities. Her daughter was within the walls of her childhood home. Her dearest Sansa was so close to her. Ned comforted her within their shared tent, murmuring assurances that they would see their eldest girl very soon, as soon as he could manage. She did not imagine that Sansa would find her own way, that she would come to them.

They did not have to wait long for the king and queen to come and greet them. They were surrounded by the white cloaks of the Kingsguard, who looked wary at the presence of the Northmen. Catelyn’s heart ached when she realized that they were alone as she sank into a curtsy beside her husband. Rhaegar instructed them to rise and she glanced up at him, realizing that he was every bit as handsome as when she last saw him at the tourney at Harrenhal. Sansa had been just a girl then and he just a prince. But she remembered the way he played his harp at the feast and the exact moment that he bestowed the crown of blue winter roses on Lyanna’s lap.

His wife was beautiful, her dark hair drawn into a complicated southron style and her gown a dark orange with yellow suns embroidered on the bodice. Catelyn felt dressed down next to her in a dress of dark blue wool and a grey cloak around her shoulders. Her hair flowed freely around the shoulders, the auburn color darkened by her years. At her side, Ned was dressed in his dark colors, his boots dirtied by their journey and his dark hair pulled away from his face. Rhaegar’s silver hair flowed around his shoulders and the dark purple doublet he wore highlighted his violet eyes.

“Your Grace,” Ned said as they straightened up. “Along with the lords and the men that I bring to you, we pledge fealty and offer our swords in defense of you, the one true king.”

Rhaegar nodded at him, relief in his eyes.

“You are most welcome, Lord Stark.” he said.

Catelyn fidgeted with her skirts, her eyes flickering to the castle every so often. When she looked back at the others, she caught sight of the queen looking at her sympathetically.

“Your daughter has fared quite well, Lady Stark. I believe that she has flourished in her time spent at court.” Elia assured her, knowing that she sought news of Sansa.

“Thank you, Your Grace. We are most grateful that you have taken care of her.” Catelyn replied, not mentioning the fact that they were the ones that took Sansa from her rightful family.

Rhaegar looked at her for a moment before glancing at his wife.

“I believe that she is with the prince and princess. They have grown quite close since her arrival in King’s Landing several months ago.” he said.

Her husband straightened up, hearing mention of his sister’s son for the first time in years.

“How do Prince Jon and Princess Rhaenys fare?” Catelyn questioned, knowing that Ned likely would not ask.

She reached down, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed it, wordlessly thanking her.

“They are quite well, my lady. It has been hard for all of us since my brother’s betrayal but they are handling it with grace, wisdom, and strength beyond their years.” the king answered.

Catelyn gave him a sad, sympathetic look.

“I am very sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing a child in such a way. The realm mourns with you, I assure you.”

Rhaegar was cut off from saying anything else when they heard shouting in the distance. They all looked in the direction of the noise, wondering what caused such uproar.

“Have you experienced difficulties with your men along the road?” Elia asked, frowning in confusion.

“No more than is common.” Ned answered, looking bothered by the noise.

It wasn’t until they recognized the shouts as joyful rather than hateful that they realized someone was coming. Catelyn gasped and clenched her husband’s hand when the three horses came into view. She could not see much but a familiar shade of red hair made her know exactly who it was.

“Ned.” Catelyn whispered.

They could not make out her features yet but she noticed several things about her daughter. Her skin was as pale as the rest of their children despite time spent in the South. Her auburn hair was flowing freely about her shoulders, lit up like fire by the sun above them. The olive green dress complimented her wonderfully, golden embroidery visible even from there. Sansa was smiling, flushed with pleasure at the reception from the northern men. When she glanced over at the boy riding beside her, Catelyn looked at him as well, realizing that he was not a boy at all. He was a man and almost the spitting image of Ned at that age. If Catelyn did not know better, she would have thought that she was looking at a mirror image of herself and her husband when they were younger.

Sansa said something to the prince and his face broke from the solemn look that made him look even more like his uncle. A smile lit up his expression and he nodded, replying to whatever she said. The other female leaned towards Sansa, adding something to the conversation that made both Sansa and Jon Targaryen laugh loudly. Their amusement reached their ears and Catelyn took a deep breath, tears gathering in her eyes. When Sansa caught sight of them, she yanked on the reigns of her horse and stopped short. Silence fell as Catelyn stepped forward, pulling Ned with her.

The prince and princess stopped as well, glancing over at Sansa before looking back at the others. He said something to Sansa and she nodded once, her eyes wide and her face drained of the previous delighted flush that lit it up. As they drew closer, Catelyn clutched at Ned and blinked the tears out of her eyes, desperate to see uninhibited. When Sansa neared them, she let out a soft sob when she realized that her daughter was truly beautiful, staring back at her with the same bright blue Tully eyes that Catelyn saw in the looking glass every day.

“Sansa.” she finally managed to say.

**Sansa**

She felt frozen on her horse when they stopped. They were all staring at her, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell looking stunned at the sight of her.

“Sansa?” Rhaenys said.

“Give her a moment.” Jon said to his sister.

They both grew silent as Sansa tried to gather herself. Jon glanced over at her.

“Remember what I said.”

She nodded at him, tightening her hands around the reigns.

“I’m ready.” she whispered.

They urged their horses on, drawing closer. Sansa’s eyes flickered back and forth between her father and mother as Jon dismounted his horse. Rhaenys was helped down by Ser Barristan as Jon moved to the side of her horse. Sansa slid off with his help, her hands clutching at his shoulders for several moments before she released him.

“Thank you.” Sansa whispered, looking up into his eyes.

He simply smiled at her, wordlessly encouraging her once more. She inhaled deeply, turning to face the others. The king and queen stepped aside, allowing her to see her mother and father clearly. Suddenly, she knew what everyone spoke of when they talked about how much she looked like Catelyn. And seeing her father, even ten years older, Sansa was reminded of how much Jon looked like Ned. She stepped towards them, feeling uncertain as they took her in slowly. Finally, Sansa acted on the only thing that she could think of and sank into a curtsy.

“My lord, my lady.” she whispered, bowing her head.

There was silence for several moments as she kept her eyes on the ground.

“Sansa.”

Her eyes lifted out of surprise as her father sighed out her name. Ned stepped towards her, his face as solemn as Jon’s often was. Though his eyes were misty, filled with every emotion that he needed to show her. Sansa felt tears filling her eyes and a lump forming in her throat.

“Father.” she whispered, straightening up.

He crossed the rest of the distance between them, putting his hands on her cheeks.

“You are beautiful, dearest Sansa, just like your mother.” Ned said in a low voice.

Sansa smiled at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. Before she could control herself, she threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his waist and Sansa felt like she was six-years-old again. Ned’s strong arms wrapped around her and he held her close, his face pressing into her hair. Sansa lifted her head after several moments and saw her mother there with tears falling down her cheeks. Sansa held her hand out to her, a pleading look in her eyes. Catelyn walked forward and stood beside them for a moment, putting a hand on Sansa’s back. Ned pulled away for a moment, staring down at them.

“My sweet girl.” Catelyn said, stroking her wet cheek.

Before Sansa could say anything, she wrapped her arms around her, cradling her head on her shoulder. She let out a soft cry and turned, allowing herself to be embraced. Ned had his arms around both of them, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head.

“Grey Wind, no!” a voice shouted, startling them out of their embrace.

“Nymeria!”

They all turned to see a two small grey blurs hurtling in their direction. They reached Sansa and she stepped away from her parents, laughing with delight as they yipped and leapt around her skirts. She knelt down, looking upon the animals with a smile and somehow knowing that they were not normal wolves.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, stroking their soft heads.

The same voice who yelled first let out a surprised curse that made Sansa look around with wide eyes.

“Robb!” Catelyn admonished.

She caught sight of him standing a short distance away, a shocked look on his face. Next to him was a small girl, her long face and grey eyes looking as surprised as their older brother. Sansa straightened up slowly, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked upon her siblings. Arya and Robb looked at their parents before glancing back at her.

“Come greet your sister.” Catelyn urged them.

Arya remained fixed in place but Robb didn’t hesitate, hurrying forward. He stopped rather close to her, hesitating as if he was suddenly uncertain. Sansa reached out towards him with a shaking hand and Robb took it as permission. He pulled her into a tight embrace and she let out a delighted laugh, clutching at the only brother of hers that she remembered.

“I missed you.” she whispered in his ear.

“I missed you as well, sister.” he murmured.

Before they could separate, they felt a skinny pair of arms wrap around both of their waists and looked down to see Arya holding onto them, tears misting in her eyes. Sansa and Robb both laughed, holding onto her as well. Sansa saw their mother and father both watching them as they held hands. When they heard happy yipping, they all turned to see the two direwolves leaping around Jon’s feet as he looked down at them with a stunned look.

“They like you.” Sansa said, smiling at him.

He looked up at them with surprise, glancing between her and her siblings as well as her mother and father. Sansa suddenly realized that Jon was looking upon his family as well. She separated from Robb and Arya, holding her hand out to him.

“Come here.” she said.

Everyone who was not part of the royal family looked shocked at her words, not expecting her to address the prince in such a way. He walked towards her with Grey Wind and Nymeria trailing behind him. Sansa slid her hand into his, pulling him towards her mother and father.

“This is Prince Jon, your nephew…” Sansa paused, glancing over at Arya and Robb. “… and our cousin.”

“That’s why they like him.” Robb said, nodding at the direwolves. “He’s a Stark.”

Everyone looked at him with surprise as Jon flushed slightly, looking down at the ground.

“He is.” Sansa agreed, grinning at him.

He looked over at her with a pleased look in his eyes.

“Then perhaps we should show them the two other guests that accompanied us.” Ned suggested.

“Jory has them!” Arya said happily.

She turned to Sansa and Jon, grinning at both of them.

“Don’t tell them.” Robb warned, putting his hand over her mouth.

She scowled up at him as Ned instructed a servant to fetch whoever this Jory was. The man hurried off as they turned to look at the king and queen as well as the princess, who had been left out of the conversation.

“I am sorry, Your Grace.” Catelyn said.

“Don’t be, Lady Stark. We are intruding,” Rhaegar said, looking at Sansa. “Your daughter has helped myself and my family. The least that we owe her is time with her family.”

Sansa smiled at him, feeling grateful.

“Come, Rhaenys.” Elia said as they turned to walk away.

The princess hesitated, darting forward to embrace Sansa. She kissed both of her cheeks before whispering in her ear.

“Tell me everything later. I want details.”

Sansa grinned as she pulled away, nodding in agreement.

“Jon can stay, right?” she asked, looking at the king and queen.

“For as long as he wishes.” Rhaegar nodded, clapping his son on the back before escorting his wife and daughter to their horses.

Sansa grinned up at Jon before hearing more noises from the direwolves at their feet. Both of them turned to see Nymeria and Grey Wind hurrying towards two other direwolves that were on leashes.

“We found six of them with their dead mother,” Ned began explaining as Arya hurried over to help Jory take them off of the leashes. “I was hesitant to let them live but Robb convinced me that there were six Stark children, including Jon. We decided to keep them for you and when we traveled here, we knew that we had to bring them.”

Sansa dropped to her knees as one of the small, unclaimed direwolves hurried over to her. She was soft and gentle, licking at Sansa’s fingers before burrowing into her skirts. Sansa laughed happily, picking her up to cuddle her to her chest. When she lifted her eyes, she saw Jon crouching down to hold his hand out to the white direwolf, unbothered by the pup’s red eyes.

“He’s beautiful.” Sansa said as the prince lifted the direwolf into his arms.

Jon glanced at her, a thrilled look in his eyes.

“So is she.” he said, moving to kneel next to her.

Sansa watched as her wolf leaned forward to touch her nose to Jon’s, licking the white direwolf happily with her entire behind wriggling. She laughed and looked up at her prince with a smile.

“They like each other.” Sansa said.

“Perhaps they reflect the feelings of their human companions.” he said quietly.

She flushed in pleasure before glancing back at her direwolf.

“What will you name yours?”

Jon thought about it for a moment.

“I’m not certain.” he admitted.

“Well, I think I’ll name mine Lady. She’s very polite.” Sansa said, stroking her ears.

“Of course you will.” Jon laughed.

She gave him a mock-scowl, shoving at his shoulder before remembering that they were not alone. They glanced up to see the others watching them with a mix of amusement and surprise.

“He doesn’t make a sound,” Robb said, nodding at Jon’s direwolf. “He doesn’t growl or bark or anything, even if he’s hungry.”

Jon glanced down at the animal, a look of consideration on his face.

“Ghost, then. That will be your name.” he decided.

“Ghost and Lady.” Sansa said, smiling once more as she looked into Jon’s eyes.

Arya dropped next to them, pulling Nymeria towards her.

“Bran named his Summer and Rickon’s is Shaggydog.” she informed them.

“Shaggydog?” Sansa and Jon said at once, raising their eyebrows.

“That’s what happens when you let a three-year-old name a direwolf.” Ned threw, sounding amused.

Sansa looked up at her parents, grinning at them as she lifted herself to her feet, Lady still clutched in her arms.

“Where are Bran and Rickon?” she asked.

“We left them in Winterfell.” Catelyn answered, looking slightly sad.

Ned nodded solemnly.

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” he said quietly.

Sansa felt sad as well, wishing that she could see her younger brothers. Catelyn reached out, brushing a hand over Lady’s head. She stroked Sansa’s cheek and leaned forward, kissing her forehead.

“We have missed you so much, Sansa.” she murmured.

“As I missed you, Mother.”

Ned broke in, stepping forward to glance around at his reunited family.

“Perhaps we should go to the castle. I am certain that your mother’s family wishes to see her as well.” he said.

Sansa nodded, glancing back at Jon. As she slipped her hand into his, they were so busy looking at each other that they missed the shared look amongst their family.

“Uncle Edmure and Grandfather have been very kind to us.” Sansa said as their horses were led over.

Catelyn looked thrilled at the news. Ned held Lady and Ghost as Jon helped her into her saddle and then climbed into his own. Sansa clutched her direwolf to her chest with one hand as the other gripped the reigns of her horse. She was thankful to be an accomplished rider as they made their way towards the castle.

“I will be glad to see them again. My uncle, your great uncle, is headed here with the forces of the Vale. We will see him within the month, I think.” Catelyn said.

“More men?” Sansa asked, surprised.

“As many as we can muster.” Ned nodded, looking serious.

Her smile faltered and she glanced at Jon, the weight of the oncoming war pressing on them once more.

“I am certain that the king and queen will be grateful for the help that you are providing. Things have been rather desperate since what happened in King’s Landing.” Sansa said.

“What did happen?” Robb asked, looking curious.

Neither Sansa nor Jon spoke but the haunted look that the events brought on must have shown in their eyes because Catelyn broke in.

“Let us not speak of that now. There will be time for that later.” she said.

Sansa shot her a relieved look, smiling at her mother. As they rode through the gates of the castle, she began to think that everything was finally falling into place and Sansa wondered if their luck was finally turning. As Lady bestowed a small lick on her chin, she grinned down at the direwolf and knew that it must be getting better for them. It had to be, because surely it could not get worse than it had in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any faults in characterization. I haven't written Robb or Arya a lot before and I thought that their demeanor might have changed in being reunited with Sansa. I hope I did the Starks justice.


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa spends time with some of her family. When she lets something slip to Jon, they come to a decision together only to receive news from their enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in updating. Several things have happened to keep me from writing. I changed the direction of the story a bit and had to compensate for that in my planning. Also, I've been filling Jon/Sansa prompts on tumblr and that has taken up quite a bit of my time. I hope to get back to updating regularly and I hope that you can forgive me.

Sansa sat on her bed with her legs curled beneath her and Lady on her lap. She stroked the soft fur of the direwolf as she watched Arya move about her room. It was rather strange, seeing her younger sister much older than she remembered. Her twelfth nameday would take place the next year.

“You look so like Jon.” Sansa informed her, watching as Nymeria followed Arya dutifully.

The younger girl glanced up at her with a curious look.

“The prince?” she asked, opening one of the trunks.

Sansa made a noise of confirmation, smiling slightly when Arya wrinkled her nose at the dresses that she encountered.

“You have the Stark looks, both of you. Robb and I look more like Mother, like a Tully.” Sansa said.

“You look like Father too.” Arya said, shifting the gowns aside.

She felt doubt, seeing nothing of herself in her father’s expression. Her sister seemed to sense her confusion.

“It’s your eyes. Not the color, but the look about them. When you smile, they look as kind and soft as his.” Arya said.

Sansa smiled at the thought, ducking her head. When Arya let out a stunned sound, she looked up again to see her holding the breeches, jerkin, and tunic that were pushed to the bottom of the trunk.

“Did these mix with your clothes by mistake?” she asked, glancing between the contrast in the dark grey breeches and her brightly colored dresses.

Sansa shook her head as Arya looked up at her curiously.

“When we fled King’s Landing, it was decided that our flight would be easier without skirts getting in the way. I must admit that it was rather freeing to ride without a dress on, though you will never hear me admit that outside of this room. I love my dresses.” Sansa said with a teasing smile.

Her younger sister looked at her with admiration as though she completely misjudged Sansa.

“Mother never lets me wear them even though I want to.” Arya said.

“She cannot always tell you what to wear. Wait until you are a woman grown and you may wear whatever you like it, be it dresses or breeches or nothing at all.” Sansa said, making her sister laugh aloud as she tucked the clothing back into the bottom of the trunk before closing it.

Arya hurried over to the bed, lifting Nymeria onto it before climbing on as well.

“Why did you leave King’s Landing with the Targaryens? I thought that you were supposed to be a ward of the Lannisters.” she questioned, leaning against one of the posts of her bed.

Sansa hesitated, looking down at Lady as the direwolf drifted off into sleep.

“The royal family was rather kind to me where the Lannisters were not. When they discovered that I was treated rather… unfairly… they transferred my wardship to the crown and so I was able to leave with them.” she answered, not wanting to give Arya the full truth.

“What did they do to you?” Arya asked, frowning as she missed nothing at all.

Before Sansa could answer, another voice spoke.

“Leave your sister be, Arya. She is likely overwhelmed and the questions will do her no good now.” Catelyn said, entering the room with a smile.

She kept herself from standing, watching as she walked to the bed and sat with them, her hands folded primly in her lap.

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” Arya asked, intent on proving her mother wrong.

Sansa forced a smile onto her face, shaking her head.

“No, it doesn’t.” she answered.

Her mother glanced at her, seeming to understand that she was not speaking the truth.

“Did your discussion with the king and queen go well?” Sansa asked, changing the subject.

“Quite well. They are rather agreeable people.” Catelyn nodded, reaching out to brush a hair from Arya’s face.

Her mother made a face that was gone as quickly as it came.

“My father is less so.” she admitted.

Sansa let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement.

“I think that it is entirely because of him that I was allowed a place on King Rhaegar’s council. He ranted about my right and about the North needed a representative until the king grew tired of it.” she said.

“That sounds like him.” Catelyn nodded, looking surprised at the fact that she was allowed on the king’s council.

Arya leaned forward, a curious look on her face.

“Did you see the dragon skulls in King’s Landing?” she asked.

Sansa nodded, her smile growing wider.

“They were all different sizes. Some of them were monstrous and others were small. They were even more intimidating as the Iron Throne.” she informed her.

Arya’s eyes lit up at the thought of the dragons that lined the walls of the Great Hall.

“I wish that the dragons would return,” she sighed, picking a sticker out of Nymeria’s fur. “It would be wonderful to see them flying over Westeros to roast the stupid Lannisters and their army.”

“Arya!” Catelyn admonished her.

Sansa laughed, shaking her head.

“It would be wonderful.” she agreed, an image of Jon riding a dragon and circling Joffrey until he burned floating through her mind.

She leaned closer to Arya.

“The dragons aren’t all gone. Jon can show you later.” she whispered.

Her mother looked stunned at her words whereas Arya simply looked curious. A knock sounded on the door and they all looked up to see a maid enter.

“Shall I help you dress for dinner, my lady?” she asked, looking at Sansa.

“There is no need, I can help her.” Catelyn said, standing up.

That was when she realized that her mother was in a different dress. The maid nodded, turning to leave. Sansa slid off of her bed, leaving Lady sleeping on the blankets. She pulled out a dark blue dress with silver trimmings, wondering if it would be too much.

“It’s beautiful.” Catelyn said, stroking her hands over the soft material.

“Grandfather had it made for me. All of my dresses are gifts from him.” Sansa said with a smile, laying it across a chair before turning to allow her mother to unlace her dress.

Arya sat on the bed watching Nymeria, uninterested in the dresses. When she felt Catelyn freeze behind her as the dress fell to the ground, Sansa’s blood ran cold.

“Arya go to your room and prepare for dinner.”

“But…” her younger sister began to protest.

“Now.” Catelyn said, leaving no room for argument.

Arya huffed, gathering Nymeria in her arms before stomping out as she muttered angry words under her breath. Sansa clutched at her direwolf necklace, staring straight forward as if she could not pretend that her mother saw.

“Sansa.”

Catelyn turned her around, looking in her eyes with a sad expression.

“Who?” she asked.

Sansa swallowed hard, looking away from her.

“Was it Tywin?” her mother asked, anger clear in her voice.

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

Catelyn led her to sit on the bed, taking her face in her hands.

“Tell me, Sansa. You must tell me who did this to you.” she pleaded, looking just as terrified as Sansa felt.

“It was Joffrey, Mother.” she whispered, tired of keeping this to herself.

The older woman closed her eyes, shaking her head with a tear slipping down her cheek. Sansa reached up to brush it away.

“I’m all right now, I promise.” she said.

Catelyn opened her eyes to look at her. She did not say anything, turning her around. Sansa bit her lip hard as her mother pulled the shift down further to see the scarred expanse of her back.

“Oh my poor girl. My poor daughter.” she cried, pulling the shift up again before hugging her tightly.

Sansa let herself relax into the embrace, burying her face in her mother’s hair. Catelyn pulled away after several minutes, gathering herself before helping Sansa into her dress.

“I would kill him.” her mother said, fury in her voice.

She was surprised to hear such words from the Lady of Winterfell. Catelyn hardly knew her yet she was angry on her behalf.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to get in line. Jon has been rather intent on running his sword through Joffrey since he found out.”

Catelyn fumbled in her movements before finishing. Sansa turned to face her, her hand still playing with the pendent.

“You still have this?” she said, surprised to see the silver direwolf necklace.

Sansa smiled, nodding as she glanced down at it.

“I couldn’t bear to part with it. It’s the only thing that I have of home.” she said.

Catelyn sighed sadly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You are so beautiful and strong. I wish that I could have known you as you grew but it does not help to dwell upon these things, only to look to the future. Will you allow us to know you, dear Sansa?” she asked, cupping her cheeks in her hands.

“Of course, Mother. I would love nothing more.” Sansa assured her.

Her mother looked happy at her acceptance, turning her around once more. Sansa remained still as she braided half of her hair up, leaving the rest to curl around her shoulders and down her back.

“So you are rather close with the princess and the prince.” 

Sansa smiled at the thought of them.

“The royal family was all rather kind to me when I arrived in King’s Landing, especially Rhaenys and Jon. I owe so much to them.” she agreed.

“Have they spoken to you of marriage? The king or anyone else?” Catelyn asked.

Her smile faded and she frowned, wondering why she was asking such a thing.

“Not of my marriage, no. Talk has gone to Jon as well as his sister and aunt and what matches they will make. But they know that it is not within their rights to suggest marriages for me. The king did ask me if I would agree to an alliance to help the war but he did not outright try to make me marry anyone.” Sansa answered.

Her mother seemed relieved as she finished her hair and faced her once more.

“We will take you home, Sansa. I promise you that.” she said.

Sansa felt her heart sinking in her chest. Home meant going away from Jon. It meant being married off to some lord, likely a northern one. Despite her only heart’s desire being Winterfell not so long ago, Sansa found that the idea of going back home to be less attractive when she had Jon right here in the South. She did not speak her thoughts, simply forcing a smile onto her face that her mother did not question.

\----------

After dinner, Sansa was relieved to be back in her chambers. There was no part of her that resented her family’s presence. Her feelings were quite the opposite. But it was all very overwhelming and she needed the time to recover from the shock of seeing them as well as her mother seeing the evidence of Joffrey’s treatment. As she lounged before the fire in her dressing gown with Lady on her lap, a knock came on the door. She nodded at her maid to open it, turning to see who was standing there. When Jon stepped into the room, Ghost tucked against his chest with the direwolf’s red eyes fixed on Sansa, she smiled slightly and dismissed the maid. After latching the door, Sansa led Jon to the fire and sat down.

“What do you think of my brother?” she asked, laying Lady on the fur in front of the fire.

Jon did the same, putting Ghost down beside her before sitting down with the wolves, his back leaning against the empty chair and his legs stretched out before him.

“He was kind and welcoming.” he answered.

He sat next to Robb and Theon Greyjoy at the dinner table, whereas Sansa was between Arya and Rhaenys.

“It is so good to see him again. He’s the only sibling that I truly remember. He was always willing to play with me, to do what I wanted to do. I wonder if he is still so unselfish.” Sansa sighed, combing her fingers through her long hair.

She smiled when she saw Ghost nosing at Lady, who immediately flipped to her back and let out a playful growl. Jon’s direwolf leapt on top of her and they began wrestling around, only Lady making noises as they played. Jon chuckled as Sansa slipped to the ground, sitting down on the fur as well. Her feet nudged at Jon’s and he grinned over at her, his eyes sparkling.

“I had a dream,” she slipped out. “I mean, I have a dream. A recurring one.”

Jon played with the hem of her dress, a patient expression on his face as he waited for her to continue.

“I’m running, sometimes I’m me and sometimes I’m…” she trailed off, glancing down at Lady.

When she looked up again, his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open in surprise. Sansa didn’t know what it meant, so she continued.

“I’m never alone. I was always with another direwolf. A white one with red eyes.” she said, remembering the dream vividly.

After all, she never went very long without having it.

“I’ve had the same dream.” Jon said, leaning forward.

It was her turn to be surprised.

“There are lions chasing us?” she breathed.

“And a field of thorny roses ahead of us. But our pack is waiting for us.” Jon nodded, looking partly exhilarated, partly confused.

Sansa, however, felt joy filling every fiber of her being as she reached out to touch his cheek. Lady and Ghost were paying them no mind as they played around on the floor.

“That dream kept me alive during my time at Casterly Rock. It’s the only thing that has ever truly been mine.” she said, happiness causing tears to gather in her eyes.

Jon reached up to brush them away.

“Not the only thing.” he said.

Sansa felt overwhelmed, tilting her head down as she tried to reign in her trembling emotions. Jon’s hand slipped beneath her dressing gown, his fingers lightly wrapping around her bare ankle.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, aware that she was being ridiculous.

“I am a cruel, stupid little girl.” Sansa whispered.

Jon squeezed her ankle gently, causing her to look up at him.

“I would allow no man or woman to say such things about you. What makes you think I would hear it from your own mouth?” he asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

Sansa bit her bottom lip before gathering the words to say.

“I know that nothing is good right now. Your brother is dead and the realm is at war once again. But… I cannot help but feel happiness. For years, I lived as a ghost within the halls of Casterly Rock. The only happiness that I found was outside the gates of the castle. I did not know that I would ever see my family again. I did not know that I would have you or Rhaenys or any of this. I thought that I would live my life under Tywin’s control. Yet while I find pleasure in my circumstances, men are lining up to die, to fight their brothers and their cousins because they fall under different house banners. What kind of a person can feel happiness in such a time? How horrible must I be?”

Sansa let her eyes fall once more, closing her eyes as she felt shame burning within her.

“Perhaps my time with the Lannisters has left more than one mark on me. Perhaps I am as cruel as Cersei and as vicious as Joffrey.” 

Jon shook his head, lifting her chin.

“You are neither, sweet girl. I will have no more talk of it.” he said, rubbing soothing circles into her ankle.

Sansa smiled slightly at his faith in her.

“Will you order me, Your Grace?” she asked.

He grinned, recognizing the teasing tone in her voice.

“Shall I have to, my lady?” he asked, sliding his hand up her ankle to her calf.

As his fingers trailed over the skin lightly, Sansa laughed lightly and tried to push him away.

“That tickles, Jon!” she cried, squirming to get away from him.

He simply grasped her wrist in his gentle grip and pulled her closer, reaching her knee. When she grasped his doublet in her other hand, Jon let out a noise of surprise as Sansa dragged him back. They fell onto the rug, Sansa beneath him as she Jon held himself up to keep from crushing her beneath his weight. She laughed as his hand slid up to her knee.

“Are we to wrestle around like our direwolves now, my prince?” Sansa questioned, her voice filled with amusement.

He grinned at her, releasing her leg only to hitch it around his waist.

“Perhaps, Lady Sansa. Would that shock you?” he said, his voice low and rough.

Sansa felt a thrill of desire and warmth rush through her body, causing her toes to curl in her slippers.

“Perhaps I could shock you, my dearest Jon.” she replied in a husky voice that she did not know she could have.

His eyes widened slightly and she saw desire in the dark grey pools.

“Not much shocks me, my lady. Though I would like to see you try.” Jon invited.

Sansa’s heart thumped in her chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He must have thought she was pulling him in for a kiss but she had something else in mind. As he drew closer to her, she pressed her thighs into his hips and used her weight to propel them over as he let out a grunt. Once she flipped him over onto his back, she pressed her hands to his chest to keep him down. Sansa wound up on top of him, her legs straddling his waist. As Jon looked up at her with surprise, she grinned down at him.

“Are you shocked yet?”

He started to answer but suddenly, their direwolf pups were on either side of him, wanting to join in on the fun. As they began licking his face happily, Sansa laughed at his attempts to get away.

“You think this amusing, my lady?” 

“Quite amusing, my prince.” she managed to say between peals of laughter.

He let out a mock growl and sat up, wrapping his arms around her as he stared into her eyes.

“You, my dearest, have wolf blood in you.” Jon informed her.

Sansa leaned forward, nipping at his lower lip.

“As you do you, my love.” she whispered.

When Jon froze in her arms, she suddenly realized what she said. Sansa felt a chill run down through her veins as she pulled away from him.

“Sansa…” he breathed.

She lurched away, scrambling to her feet as her heart raced in her chest for a different reason.

“Don’t, Jon. I couldn’t bear to have your pity.” Sansa said pleadingly, turning away from him as she adjusted her dressing gown.

She heard him get to his feet behind her. Despite the fact that she knew he would want to speak, she could not control the words that fell from her mouth as she brushed her hair away from her face with shaking hands.

“I am aware that you have a duty to the realm and to your father. I know that I am not the most likely of matches for you and that it was possibly rather stupid of me to fall in love with you.”

“Sansa…” Jon repeated.

“I do not expect anything from you, my prince. I know the way of the world and…”

Suddenly he took her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him.

“Might I speak now, my lady?” Jon said, his face serious as he stared into her eyes.

Sansa nodded, a jerk of her head giving her permission as she awaited his words with bated breath.

“You do not have my pity, Sansa. Only my love.”

She grew weak in his arms at his words, only kept upright by his firm grip upon her. Sansa clutched at his shoulders, scarcely allowing herself to hope as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“I have a duty to the realm and to my father, that is true. I am tasked with protecting the people and in doing so, I shall choose a most gentle and loving woman to become their future queen. There is none more gentle and loving than you.” Jon said softly, stroking his fingers through her long hair.

Sansa curled her fingers into his doublet, her eyes shining with tears once more.

“I do not care if it anyone thinks that it was rather stupid of us to fall in love. They will not be allowed to come between us, I shall ensure it. If it is your wish to be at my side as my wife, I should wish the same. I do wish the same, Sansa. There is no one else that I wish to be joined with for the rest of my days.”

She felt her emotions overwhelming her.

“Oh Jon.” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.

He held her close as she buried her face in his neck.

“Is that a yes, then?” Jon questioned.

She let out a cross between a laugh and a sob, pulling away from him.

“I do not think myself worthy, Jon. Surely there is a woman better suited to be queen.” Sansa breathed, curling her fingers in his hair.

“There is no woman lovelier or kinder than you. I do not wish for another.” Jon assured her.

She saw the question in his eyes, the need for reassurance from her.

“Neither do I.” Sansa admitted.

Jon smiled, pressing his forehead against hers as his arms slid around her back to hold her close.

“Then, my sweet Sansa, will you be my wife?” he questioned.

“Yes, my dearest Jon.” she breathed, exhilaration filling her as she smiled happily.

He exhaled with relief, pulling her into a deep kiss. Sansa responded in kind, parting her lips to him as she carded her fingers through his hair. When they pulled away, both gasping for air, she looked at him with disbelief. This was real, it had to be. For she could not bear to wake and have it all be a dream.

“What are we going to tell everyone?” Sansa asked.

Jon smiled at her, a dazed look in his eyes.

“I cannot bring myself to care.” he said before pulling her into a kiss once more.

\----------

The next morning, Jon came to Sansa’s room to escort her to the Great Hall. When they walked in, everyone else had already arrived and were in the middle of breaking their fast. Even the Dragonstone lords were there, causing them both to tense with worry. Jon slid his hand into hers, squeezing it gently. She took a deep breath, nodding as they stepped forward. Before he spoke, they finally realized the tension that was already in the room and the hurried manner in which they were all eating.

“What has happened?” Jon asked, frowning at his father.

“We have received word. The Lannister armies are marching north.” Rhaegar answered.

Sansa and Jon exchanged a look, their eyes growing wide. The war was upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you think.


	21. Author's Note

Ignore the last author's note that I published. I'm not going to rewrite the story. I will continue as planned and finish the story. I do not know how many chapters there will be (possibly 30), but it will go on as I planned it from the beginning. I'm sorry for the confusion. Some bad comments that I reread just had my head twisted and thinking that I've done a horrible job on this story. The uncertainty still hasn't gone away but I'm going to try my best to finish for the readers who are counting on me.


	22. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa speaks with Jaime and resolves a few things. When confronted with plans for their future, they announce their intent to their families. Jon and Sansa have time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for being so amazingly supportive. I love all of you.

She watched, a small crease between her eyebrows betraying her inner turmoil, as men and women alike bustled around the Great Hall. They prepared for the armies approaching, though it was unlikely that they would be here before the turn of two moons. Her hands trembled as she touched her direwolf pendent.

“Everyone is so gloomy and ill-tempered. You would think that someone had died.” a voice said behind her.

She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at Jaime. He leaned against a pillar near to the bench that she sat upon, his arms crossed over his red and gold doublet.

“War approaches, ser. Or haven’t you heard?” she asked.

“I’ve heard. But believe me when I say that the only reason everyone is in such a horrid mood is because it has not arrived yet. Their blood sings with the prospect of war and killing.” Jaime said, looking around at the crowded hall.

Sansa frowned, looking towards her father, who was discussing something with Edmure in low tones beside the seat of the Lord of Riverrun. Hoster had taken ill again and was confined to his chambers.

“Not every man is like you.” she said quietly.

“Now there is something we both agree upon.” Jaime replied.

She could hear the amusement in his voice and Sansa turned, glowering at him.

“Did I not tell you to cease speaking to me until I allowed it?” she reminded him.

Jaime simply smirked at her, walking over to straddle the bench that she sat upon.

“You are not angry with me.” he said confidently.

Sansa stared back at him, her brow arched and a challenging look in her eyes.

“What makes you say such a thing?” she questioned.

“As much as your lady mother and precious prince would like to think so, I know you better than anyone in this place. I saw you grow from girl to woman and I see your thoughts in your eyes. Your heart is too gentle for grudges. You forgave me the moment you heard of my actions, though you will not admit it out of pride and hatred for the rest of my family.” Jaime explained, his emerald eyes beseeching her to counter his words.

She remained quiet, glancing away from him.

“Why did you leave Casterly Rock? Why did you abandon your family?” Sansa asked.

“I cannot fight for my father in this war. He has gone too far for power, likely pushed into it by my sister. When I told her that I disagreed with what happened, she called me a coward and said that I was not a true Lannister if I did not see that such things were necessary to make things right in the world. I decided to leave, an action made easier by the knowledge that it was not just my bed that she shared. When I heard of what Joffrey had done to you, it was clear where I was meant to go.” 

She looked over at him, feeling pity for him. It was clear that Jaime likely loved Cersei, despite the wrongness of the situation.

“There was also the matter of you missing my company.” Jaime said.

“Oh did I?” she replied, fighting back a smile.

Jaime nodded, looking confident.

“You bemoaned it each night. Oh, if only I had Jaime here again. These dragons and wolves aren’t enough to amuse me. I need his devastatingly handsome face in my presence and his sharp wit to make me laugh.” he said in a poor imitation of her voice.

Sansa let out a laugh as she turned her head away from him. Jaime grinned at her.

“Will you keep me around, then?” he asked.

She sighed, shaking her head.

“For now,” Sansa said, glancing back at him. “No more lies.” 

“On my honor.” Jaime said, putting a hand over his heart.

She sighed, standing up and holding her hand out to him.

“Then, as you have returned to my favor, you may escort me to the training yard.” 

He looked at her with surprise, standing to allow her to take his arm.

“What business do you have there?” Jaime asked as they walked out of the Great Hall.

Sansa did not answer right away, smiling and nodding at several Dragonstone lords as they passed.

“I have none, though I am tasking you with something.” she said, stepping out into the sunlight with him.

They walked towards the yard where they could hear the sounds of swords clashing. When they rounded the corner, she saw Robb and Jon sparring, trading out with Theon Greyjoy every few rounds. Sansa watched them for a moment, looking up at Jaime.

“I want you to help them.” she said, her blue eyes beseeching him to agree.

“Help them?” Jaime said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sansa nodded, looking back at her brother and her love.

“They have not experienced war.” she said quietly.

“They are green boys. So was I when I fought in the rebellion.” Jaime reminded her.

“This is not the same. That is my brother, Jaime. And the heir to the throne. They do not know what they will experience on the battlefield but you do. You have told me stories of its horrors. Train them, show them what it will be like to truly fight, not just spar. You are one of the greatest warriors here. Show them how.” Sansa pleaded, her hand tightening on his arm.

Jaime sighed, leaning his head back as if to ask the sky why she demanded such things of him.

“Even if they will agree, which is doubtful, why would I train them? They have other men who can do it as easily as I.” he said.

“Because you are the one who is in my debt.” Sansa replied.

He looked down at her with surprise.

“Am I?” Jaime questioned.

Sansa nodded in confirmation.

“If the truth of Joffrey’s parentage ever comes to surface, there will be men calling for your head from every corner of this camp. I can protect you from that if you will do this.” she said, putting as much confidence in her voice as she could manage.

The truth was, she might not be able to stay the king’s hand if he heard of Jaime’s disgrace. But she would try her best to argue on his account.

“You are lucky I wish for a fight.” Jaime said, walking forward as he drew his sword from its scabbard.

Sansa felt relief filling her. She reached out, taking his arm in hers at the last moment.

“Take care of him, Jaime. I know that you do not like Jon but I love him. I could not bear to lose him.” Sansa said, hoping that her plea was enough.

He nodded solemnly before heading for the fenced in yard. Every man stopped to watch as he pushed the gate open. Jon and Robb both glowered at him. Sansa remained in the shadows, watching as Jaime tried to convince everyone to allow his help.

“Why would we trust you to help us and not kill us, Lannister?” Robb demanded.

“Because I owe a debt and a Lannister always pay his debts.” Jaime replied, his eyes flickering up to Sansa.

She nodded at him before turning to walk off, feeling satisfied that he would ensure that her brother and future husband were adequately prepared for war.

\----------

Sansa watched along with Rhaenys and Arya as the three boys sank into their chairs at the dinner table with winces.

“How are you feeling?” Arya asked, smirking.

They all answered with groans, even Jon.

"Jaime Lannister is a right prick.” Theon decided.

He grimaced as he reached for his cup of wine with a grimace.

“He’s helping you.” Sansa reminded him before taking a small bite of her food.

“Because of a debt, let us not pretend that it’s his honor which led him to teach us.” her brother pointed out.

Jon remained quiet, staring down at his plate.

“Would you rather go into battles against seasoned warriors unprepared, or allow his instruction?” Sansa said, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

Both he and Theon mumbled out their answers, admitting that they wanted his help. She smiled triumphantly, glancing over at Jon. He was looking at her now, a heated gaze in his eyes that sent warm shivers down her spine. Sansa clenched her hand in her skirts, unable to turn her eyes from him.

“You all need to bathe. You smell.” Arya broke in, wrinkling her nose.

“Agreed.” Rhaenys threw in, sipping at her wine.

When the doors to the Great Hall opened, they all glanced around to see her mother and father enter with the king and queen, Daenerys, and a few of the Dragonstone lords as well as her uncle.

“I see you’ve started without us.” Rhaegar said, looking around at them.

“They are young and hungry, allow them such an indulgence.” Elia said, smiling at her husband.

It had been a while since they saw her look happy, though she was getting more light every day.

“Are you going to tell us about the super secret council meeting?” Arya asked as the older people all sat.

“Arya!” Catelyn hissed, shooting an apologetic look to the king and queen.

“I want to know.” Sansa, Rhaenys, Jon, and Robb all chorused.

The others exchanged amused looks.

“We spoke of marriage,” Lord Sunglass spoke up.

Their smiles faded, knowing that they were wanting to make alliances through them.

“Lord Stannis has offered his daughter, Shireen. Several heirs have offered their hands to Princess Rhaenys, Princess Daenerys, and even the Lady Sansa.” Lord Celtigar said.

Sansa looked over at Jon, her face pale and her eyes wide.

“I am sorry, my lords,” he said, looking over at them. “I am afraid that I am no longer available for you to marry off to the highest bidder.”

Everyone gaped at him, unused to the blunt words from the prince. Sansa’s cheeks flushed as he stared around unflinchingly.

“Not available?” Lord Velaryon said, his eyebrows lifted.

“I am sorry if it inconveniences you.” Jon said.

“Did someone knock your head, boy?” Lord Sunglass questioned.

Anger spiked within her at his words.

“Have care how you speak, he is your prince and the heir to your throne. You should show him respect, my lords.” Sansa said, aiming an icy glare at the lords.

They all looked at her with surprise, silenced for the moment. Rhaegar was glancing between them, realization dawning on his face.

“Who is this bride that you choose, my son?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have chosen her, Father, as much as she has chosen me.” 

“Who is this mysterious woman, then?” Rhaenys said, her eyes sparkling with understanding.

Jon pushed away from the table, standing up and walking around. Sansa looked up at him as he held his hand out, a small smile forming on her face.

“My lady?” he said.

“My prince.” Sansa replied, sliding her hand into his.

He pulled her to stand, wrapping his arm around her waist. Gasps echoed around them as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. Sansa clutched at his shoulders, smiling against his mouth as he slid his other hand around the back of her neck. When they pulled away, their faces turned to look at the faces of the people watching them. Rhaenys looked pleased, Arya and Robb looked torn between shock and amusement, Rhaegar and Elia were both resigned and slightly amused as well. Her mother and father stared between them with wide eyes, likely seeing their younger selves reborn. The Dragonstone lords all looked as though they had been knocked over their heads.

“If that is made clear, I think that I am done with our meal. Sansa?” Jon said, looking over at her.

“I have eaten enough.” she nodded in agreement.

“We will see you on the morrow, then. I intend to spend this evening with my betrothed.” Jon decided, throwing out all care for the fact that they should be chaperoned.

They had been alone plenty of times and didn’t intend to avoid that now that they were to be married. As they walked out, Sansa smiled when she heard Arya laugh and someone remark on how like Rhaegar his son was in that moment, forsaking all expectations for a Stark woman. When they reached his chambers, Jon drew her in for a soft kiss, smiling at her before pulling her inside.

“I would like a bath. Can you bring water for me?” he asked the maid who was setting up the fire.

She nodded quickly, hurrying out to ensure that heated water was brought for his bath. Jon walked into his bedchamber, pulling off his jerkin slowly with a grimace. After a moment of hesitation, she walked in after him. He poured two cups of wine, handing one off to her. Sansa perched on the edge of his bed, sipping at the sweet wine as she watched the maids bring in one bucket after another, pouring them into the bath. Once they were done, Jon closed and latched the door, leaving them alone.

Sansa tracked him as he walked towards the bath, pulling his tunic over his head. She frowned the bruise darkening his ribs from sparring with the others.

“Jaime was hard on you.” she said.

“It is good. We need to be prepared for war.” Jon replied.

She sighed, walking over to the window to look out at the armies camped at Riverrun.

“We could run away. Go to the Free Cities where no one would bother us about wars or marriages.” she suggested, trying to ignore the sound of fabric hitting the floor as he stripped down.

Her cheeks flushed anyway as she heard him slip into the water of the bath and sigh with relief.

“I wish that we could.” Jon admitted.

Sansa chanced a look back at him, smiling when he flushed at her gaze. She kept her eyes away from the water, walking around to pull a chair behind the bath.

“You could be a sellsword,” she whispered, putting her hands on his shoulders to rub out the knots. “I could wear dresses of Braavosi silks and Myrish lace, thin and quite revealing.”

Jon let out a groan, tilting his head back as her fingers deftly massaged at his sore muscles.

“It would be a beautiful sight, my love.” he admitted.

Sansa smiled slightly at his use of the endearment once again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Her hands moved down his back, rubbing at his heated skin gently.

“No one would ever find us. We would have a small manse on the shores of the Jade Sea, a garden for little children with red hair and grey eyes, or dark curls and blue eyes, to run around in.” she said dreamily, trailing kisses around to his throat.

“Sansa.” Jon sighed, turning his head. 

Their lips met and they kissed slowly and lazily, enjoying the soft touch of their lips. Jon pulled away, leaning his head back against her as she wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders, her hands pressing over his chest.

“I intend to marry you before this war begins, Sansa. That is, if you would agree to such a thing.” he said, looking at her carefully.

Sansa drew away to look into his eyes, a surprised look in her own.

“Truly?” she breathed.

Jon nodded, a soft smile on his face. Sansa beamed at him, bending her face to his once again to kiss him.

“I heartily give my consent, my dearest prince.” she murmured.

Jon grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hand lifted and he started to pull her closer before remembering that she was clothed and he was wet.

“This is rather inconvenient.” he admitted, frowning slightly.

Sansa considered his words for a moment before straightening up. As she began unlacing her gown, Jon’s eyes widened.

“Sansa, dearest, I did not mean…”

“I know what you meant, Jon,” she cut him off, pushing the dress off of her shoulders. “And now you shall know my meaning. I seem to recall you telling me that you would honor my choices.”

He watched with wide eyes as the light green fabric pooled at her feet and she stepped out of the dress. As Sansa unlaced her shift, she looked at him questioningly.

“Is this all right with you, Jon?” Sansa asked quietly, the white cloth falling from her shoulder to reveal more of her skin.

Jon swallowed hard and nodded, unable to contain his desire to see more.

“But are you certain?” he asked warily.

Sansa nodded, loosening the shift further with a tug at the ribbons around her waist.

“My decisions are my own, and I want to make them for myself, and for you.” she answered, pulling the shift up and over her head.

Jon inhaled sharply as she was mostly bared to him. Sansa stood before him, flushing as his eyes took in her breasts, his heated gaze causing tingling warmth to spread through her body. He did not speak, just reaching his hand out to her. She hesitated, untying her smallclothes. She saw his throat bob at the sight of the auburn curls between her legs and heat pooled in her lower belly. Sansa was certain that her face was the color of her hair as she took his hand. Jon tugged her towards the bath and she hovered at the edge.

“Do I please you, my prince?” she asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Jon’s eyes darkened at her words and he reached up, fitting his hand over her hip.

“Come here, sweet girl, and I will show you how you please me.” he said in a low, rough voice.

Sansa shivered at his words, carefully climbing into the bath. She lowered herself into the water slowly, his hands helping steady her. Sansa straddled his legs, bracing her hands on his chest. Jon stroked his fingers down her arms gently, looking at her with an expression that made her heart swell and her body ache for him. She pushed herself forward, twining her legs around his waist. Her lips pressed to his, gently at first before he deepened the kiss. Jon nibbled on her lower lip before delving into her mouth, their tongues sliding together as his arms wrapped around her. His hand reached up, pulling the pins from her hair to release the locks from the bun at the nape of her neck.

It spilled down her back, the ends dipping into the water. Sansa tilted her head back as he kissed along her jaw, her hips moving against his. Jon groaned at the feeling just as she flushed, realizing that his arousal was pressing into her leg. He lifted her up slightly, trailing his lips across her collarbone and down to her chest. Sansa let out a cry as his lips closed around her nipple, rolling the other between his finger and thumb. She slid her hands into his hair, panting and whimpering as he flicked his tongue over the hardened nipple. His other hand crept up her inner thigh, parting her folds to stroke at her womanhood. Sansa bit her lip, knowing that she had to keep quiet.

But with all of the sensations that he was pulling from her body, it was hard not to scream out his name. She moved her hips against his hand as he found her sensitive nub with ease. Jon rubbed it with his thumb, sliding a finger into her slowly. Sansa let out a cross between a sigh and a moan, pushing him back to capture his lips. Her moans were muffled by their kiss as she writhed on his lap.

“Jon, oh Jon.” she choked out, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

“I cannot wait to marry you, my sweet Sansa, to make you mine in every way.”

“Yes.” she hissed, clenching her fingers into his shoulders as Jon rubbed at her quicker.

He kissed along her throat, nibbling at her collarbone and soothing the reddened skin with his tongue. She peaked with a soft cry, sealing her mouth over his once more as he rubbed at her nub, wringing as much pleasure from her as possible. When she collapsed against his chest, Sansa could feel his erection pressing against her abdomen. Jon did not do anything, simply stroking her hair as he held her close. When she recovered enough to pull away, Sansa had a shy look on her face.

“I want…” she cut off, her cheeks burning.

Jon tilted his head to the side, stroking her cheek.

“What do you want? Tell me.” he urged her.

Sansa hesitated, flushing as she glanced down before looking back at him.

“I want to touch you, Jon.” she said quietly.

He let out a groan, pressing their foreheads together.

“I am yours, as you are mine, Sansa. Touch me if it is what you would like to do.”

She sighed, leaning in to press her lips to his. Jon faltered and moaned against her mouth as her hand wrapped around his arousal. Sansa pulled away, surprised at the feel of it. 

“I don’t know what to do, Jon.” she admitted, knowing that she was safe enough with him that she could tell him such things.

“Just like this, sweetling, he said, reaching down to cover his hand with hers.

Sansa followed his rhythm as he dragged her hand up and down his length. Jon trembled beneath her, his head thrown back and his eyes shut.

“Does it pain you, Jon?” she asked hesitantly.

He looked at her with eyes so dark that they seemed black.

“Quite the opposite, my love.” Jon assured her.

Sansa felt better at his words, tightening her grip around him as she quickened her movements. Jon yanked her flush to his chest, kissing her deeply as his hips thrusted up into her hand. Sansa stroked him, brushing her thumb over the tip as she put her lips at his ear.

“I want you to come, Jon. I want to feel your peak as I give you pleasure.” she whispered in her ear.

He let out a strangled groan, clutching at her hips.

“Gods, Sansa, you are amazing and all mine.” Jon said, a hint of shock in his voice that he was even in this situation with her.

Sansa smiled, becoming more confident in herself as she stroked him.

“All yours, my love, forever.” she said.

Jon’s breath hitched in his throat and he buried his face in her hair as he twitched in her hand. She felt warmth in the water and knew that she had given him pleasure as he did with her. Sansa kissed along his jaw, stroking his curls as Jon recovered in her arms. When he pulled away, Sansa let out a noise of surprise when he carefully turned her around, settling her between his legs. When Jon pulled her back against his chest and turned her head to kiss her, she found that she quite liked this position as well.

“I can hardly believe that you are real, that you will not disappear when I wake.” he marveled, staring into her eyes as he stroked her cheek.

Sansa lifted her hand to lay over his, smiling at him.

“I am quite real, my Jon. And I do not intend to disappear before I have you in every way.” she assured him.

He grinned at her, kissing her once more. When she leaned back against him once more, Sansa laced her fingers in his on the edge of the tub. Slowly, fear ebbed into her mind.

“I fear for you, Jon. I fear for everyone.” she said quietly.

Sansa waited for him to dismiss her fears as silly but he simply pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I do as well.” He admitted.

She sighed, praying to the old gods and new that they would deliver those she loved from this conflict.

\----------

The next morning, when they went down to break their fast, Sansa and Jon were holding hands quite carelessly. Everyone looked up at them as they entered, all looking between them carefully. When Rhaegar stood, Ned did the same.

“It is truly what you wish? To marry one another?” the king asked.

Jon pulled Sansa in closer to him, nodding in confirmation.

“We do.” she answered, knowing that she had to speak up for them as well.

Ned and Rhaegar exchanged glances, father to father.

“It will be a good thing.” her father decided, looking at his wife.

He held his hand out to her and Catelyn took it with a smile, looking slightly stressed by overall happy for her daughter. Sansa’s heart leapt at his words.

“It will,” Rhaegar agreed, nodding as he took Elia’s hand. “Everyone will need a happy occasion before the war begins.”

“So you are consenting?” Jon asked, looking between their fathers.

“I am insisting.” the king replied.

Sansa grinned, turning her face to Jon’s neck. He pulled her into an embrace, pressing a kiss into her hair. They were suddenly surrounded, Sansa embraced by her mother, Rhaenys, and Daenerys. Arya reluctantly hugged her, a small smile on her face. Robb kissed her forehead as they hugged and her father did the same. When she pulled away from him, she turned to Jon, who was embracing his father. Elia hugged her as well, quietly welcoming her to the family. When she faced Rhaegar, he pulled her into a one-armed hug and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“There is no one more worthy.” he murmured.

Sansa drew away, feeling like she would burst with happiness. Jon reclaimed her, putting an arm around her waist as they sat at the table and began eating. Jon remained silent as she answered questions from Rhaenys and Daenerys, as well as the queen and her mother. Everyone at the table was grateful for this happy moment, knowing that much unhappier ones were coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	23. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As everyone prepares for the wedding, Jon has a talk with Lord Stark and Sansa spends time with her siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is being so kind and supportive of this fic. I love you all.
> 
> A special thank you to MerMarie for being a lovely beta. I am so grateful for you.

**Sansa**

Sansa could easily read the frown on her sister’s face. Arya was sitting in a chair with Nymeria on her lap and Lady at her feet. Her direwolf was patiently watching as the women bustled around her, holding up different fabrics for her approval. Catelyn sat in a chair nearby with a small smile as she sewed Sansa’s maiden cloak.

“Was there this much activity when you married Father?” Sansa asked, looking at her mother.

“No,” Catelyn said, shaking her head with a relieved expression. “It was much more hurried than this. Westeros was already in the middle of war when were married in the sept here at Riverrun. It was almost empty, but it will be full for you. You are marrying a prince, after all.”

Sansa looked down at her feet, holding her arms out as one of the women measured her waist.

“We wish to wed in the godswood,” she said, glancing out the window at the beautiful godswood that was visible from her chambers. “Jon follows the old gods. I do as well. Will that be all right?”

She glanced at her mother with a concerned look. Catelyn smiled at her, looking slightly sad.

“That is just fine, Sansa. It is your choice, after all.” she said, her eyes shining with tears.

Sansa looked at her with a pained expression.

“It is not a reflection on you, Mother. Jon always wanted to keep his roots in the North and I know how he feels. We were both surrounded by so many southern customs when we are both children of winter.” she assured her.

“No, that is not…I just cannot believe that you are grown enough to marry. When we were traveling here, I kept imagining that little girl that was taken from me. Now you are a woman grown and you will be married to a prince. You will be queen one day. It is almost too much to bear.” Catelyn sighed, wiping at her eyes.

Sansa gave the women around her a look and they all moved away, allowing her to step off of the pedestal and walk to her mother. She knelt before her, putting her hands on her knees.

“I know you wish that I could come back to Winterfell, but I have been a woman bled for three years now. I must marry, Mother. This suits everyone and ensures an alliance between the North and the South. And it gives the people something to celebrate before the war begins.”

Catelyn reached down, putting a hand on her cheek.

“But is it what you truly want?” she asked.

Sansa reached up, laying her hand over her mother’s.

“Jon is brave and gentle and strong. He is a good prince and he will be an even better king. There is no one more worthy of my affections, I promise you. We are marrying for love, Mother. Not many people can claim that,” she said, smiling as she spoke. “He is so good to me. He will take care of me.”

Catelyn nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Let us leave you. You must rest. After all, you are only an unwedded woman for a few days more,” she said, standing up and nodding at the women to dismiss them. “Arya, come.”

“No, let her stay. I wish to spend time with my sister.” Sansa said, smiling at Arya.

Catelyn nodded, pressing her into a hug before leaving along with the others. Once they were gone, she glanced over at Arya.

“What did I do?” she asked, assuming that she did something wrong.

Sansa shook her head, letting out a small laugh as she hurried over to her bed.

“I have something for you.” she said conspiratorially.

Arya leapt up when she saw Sansa drag the small chest from beneath the bed, glad to be a part of any trouble.

“You must never tell anyone.” she warned.

Her sister nodded quickly, agreeing as she bounced on her toes impatiently. Sansa opened the chest and pulled out the stack of clothing, handing it over to Arya.

“Where did you get these?” she gasped, looking upon the breeches and tunic with wonder.

“I made them for you. You mustn’t tell anyone.”

Arya nodded quickly, a bright look in her eyes.

“Thank you.” she said, leaning in for an embrace.

Sansa smiled, hugging her back with warmth in her chest.

**Jon**

He was heading towards the training yard to practice with Ghost at his side when he heard his name called by a low voice. When he turned, the sight of his uncle, and future good father, stopped him in his tracks.

“My lord.” he said, feeling something akin to panic settling in his gut.

“Call me Uncle or Ned, Jon. We are family and to become even closer soon. Would you walk with me?”

Jon nodded, following him outside. They walked past everyone and when they entered the godswood, he had an idea of where they were going.

“Sansa is rather fond of you.” Ned said, glancing over at him.

“I am rather fond of her as well.” Jon said, his cheeks coloring slightly as he looked down.

He knew it was an understatement for his true feelings, but he did not think to tell the Lord of Winterfell that he loved his daughter more than anything. It might be a bit too much for the man.

“I am glad that she managed to find such companionship during her time in the South. I am aware of the hardships that she suffered at the hands of the Lannisters.”

Jon looked up, his hands clenching into fists as he thought of what Joffrey did to her, reacting the same way each time he was reminded of the scars on her back.

“They will suffer for what they have done, Jon. At the hands of one Stark or another.” Ned assured him.

He nodded in agreement.

“I suppose that it is your right to vindicate what happened to Sansa.” Jon agreed.

“It is your right as well. Though I think that if we put them in a room with Catelyn and Arya, they would plead for mercy far quicker.” Ned said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Jon looked over at him with confusion and his uncle sighed.

“You may not bear the name, but you are our blood. That direwolf that has taken to you so easily is proof. My daughter’s love for you tells me of your character. My other children admire you as well. I know that I can trust you with my daughter and my realm.” he said confidently.

To Jon, that was the highest compliment that Eddard Stark could offer. He knew that men as honorable as Sansa’s father sought to keep the realm as safe as possible, but his own children even safer.

“Thank you, my lord.” he said, bowing his head to him.

Ned sighed as they approached the Heart Tree.

“You look so like your mother. Like a Stark.” he said, glancing over at Jon.

He could not help but agree, seeing his own face in his uncle’s.

“Many people use it as cause to question whether I am truly a Targaryen. Perhaps if I had been born with violet eyes, they would believe it easier.” Jon said, sitting down on a boulder.

“You are a Targaryen. My sister gave her life to bring you into this world, to give your father his third dragon.” Ned said confidently, sitting on a rock nearby.

Jon looked over at him, realizing that although this was the first time he remembered meeting the Lord of Winterfell, this was not the first time that his uncle had met him.

“You were there, at the Tower of Joy.” Jon said quietly.

The older man nodded, unsheathing his sword. He watched with admiration as he polished the Valyrian steel blade.

“I took you from Lyanna’s arms myself, promised her that you would be safe. You were quiet and somber, even as a babe. It was as if you knew the gravity of the situation that we were all in.”

Jon looked down at the ground, feeling a weight on his heart.

“I wish that I could have known her. My father told me stories, that she was beautiful and fierce.” he said, a deep longing in his voice.

Ned nodded, letting a smile form on his face.

“That she was, beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” he agreed.

They heard the crunch of leaves under light footsteps and glanced up to see Sansa walking towards them with a hesitant expression, as if she did not wish to interrupt them.

“Then, I think that all Stark women are.” Ned said, looking upon his daughter with a warm smile.

Jon’s face relaxed into a content look as he looked upon his betrothed.

“I am inclined to agree.” he replied.

Sansa reached them, her smile lighting up her face.

“Father.” she said softly, leaning down to bestow a kiss upon his cheek.

“Have we been summoned?” Ned asked as she straightened up.

She nodded, stepping back.

“Mother says that the midday meal is prepared, if you would like to come.” Sansa said.

Jon stood up, brushing the dirt off of his breeches.

“You may go. I should like to stay here longer. It seems that a godswood is the only place that I can truly think.” her father said, looking up at the Heart Tree.

“We’ll ensure that food is set aside for you in your solar.” Sansa said, taking Jon’s offered arm.

Ned nodded his thanks, smiling up at them before looking down at his sword. Jon led her away, holding her close to him as they walked towards the castle once more.

“He did not scare you away, did he?” Sansa said, the shine in her eyes assuring him that she was jesting.

“Not even the gods could scare me away from you.” he assured her, lifting her hand to his mouth to kiss it lightly.

Sansa sighed, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

“I wish that we could marry today. I do not want to wait a moment longer to be yours.” she admitted.

“You are already mine, my love, as I am yours. All that is left is to pledge ourselves to each other in the sight of the gods and our families.” Jon reassured her.

She nodded in agreement, pulling him in for a kiss as they paused at the edge of the godswood. When they finally reached the Great Hall, he led Sansa to sit between her mother and sister before taking his seat next to his father.

“Where is our grandfather?” Sansa asked, noticing Hoster Tully’s absence once she informed them of her father’s preferences.

Lady Stark glanced at her brother before looking to her daughter.

“He is feeling rather ill today, more so than usual. He would like to rest as much as possible before your wedding so that he may attend.” she said with a stressed smile.

Sansa noticed it, a crease forming between her brows.

“But he will be all right, won’t he?” she asked.

No one answered her and that was enough for them all to know what was unspoken. Riverrun might have a new lord before the war even began.

**Sansa**

“I do not know how you can stand it.” Rhaenys said, shaking her head.

She grinned at the princess over her shoulder, wriggling her toes where they were submerged in the water of the Red Fork River. Arya was next to her, both of their dresses hiked up to their knees as they let the cool water run over their legs.

“We are wolves of the North. Cold doesn’t bother us.” Arya said simply, splashing water towards Nymeria, who yelped and nipped at her.

“Just as fire does not burn a dragon.” Sansa said.

Rhaenys sat next to them, looking over at Robb and Jon as they sparred nearby. They were enjoying the warm afternoon sun outside of the castle gates with a few Stark and Tully guards nearby to keep them safe. Sansa ran her hand through Lady’s soft fur, smiling at her as she licked at her hand.

“The Dragonstone lords are less than happy with you. You’re taking away their chance to avoid war through an alliance. Now the cowards will have to fight.” Rhaenys said.

“Good. It’s about time that they do something useful.” Sansa said darkly, glaring out at the glittering water.

Rhaenys and Arya both laughed at her words, neither disagreeing. They watched as the boys staggered over and splashed cool water onto their heated skin.

“Can you teach me to fight?” Arya asked.

“I’ve told you no a thousand times, little one,” Robb said, reaching out to muss her hair. “Mother would have my head for it.”

She scowled at him but Jon straightened up, holding his hand out to her.

“I doubt Lady Stark can take my head.” he said, the offering clear in his voice.

Sansa grinned as Arya leapt up and ran behind him to the place where the boys were sparring before. Robb chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled his boots off and rolled his breeches up, dipping his own feet in the water.

“You Starks.” Rhaenys huffed, shaking her head as she stood to watch Jon and Arya as he let her hold a blunted tourney sword.

As the princess walked away, Sansa glanced over at Robb to see Jon and Arya watching as well.

“He’s good with her.” her brother acknowledged, turning his head to look back at her.

She smiled and nodded in agreement.

“You like him, don’t you?” Sansa asked, feeling concerned.

Robb was perhaps the only person who hadn’t given his opinion about their union.

“He’s a good man, as far as I can tell. He’ll be a good king too, one day. And you a good queen.” Robb said, reaching over to take her hand.

She flushed with happiness at his words.

“And you will be a good lord, worthy of the ancient seat of the Starks.” Sansa said, squeezing his hand lightly.

Robb grinned at her, his blue eyes that looked so like hers lighting up. They fell into a comfortable silence, watching as Jon taught Arya to thrust and parry.

“I already hate this war and it hasn’t even begun.” Sansa sighed, wondering who would be taken from them by the time the fighting ended.

Her brother sighed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side.

“I’ll be fighting with him. I’ll keep him safe for you, I promise.” Robb assured her, nodding at Jon.

Sansa turned to look at him, feeling a rush of gratitude.

“And he will keep you safe for me…and for Rhaenys, I am certain.” she said, a small smile forming on her face.

When he flushed and looked down at his hands, she let out a small laugh. Sansa did not fail to notice the attention that her brother paid to the princess, her friend, and the looks that Rhaenys snuck to the future Lord of Winterfell.

“I wholeheartedly approve, Robb,” she assured him. “You would be good for her and she would be the same in return.”

“I only just met her a few weeks ago, Sansa.” he reminded her.

“And I only knew Jon for a few weeks before I grew attached to him. It does not take long to figure out what a person means to you. Do not hesitate to tell her if you feel for her, Robb. You would not want to regret it when it is too late.” Sansa said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

He smiled at her as he nodded.

“Come, sister. Perhaps I may teach you something before you are married.” Robb said, standing up.

Sansa did the same, pulling her riding boots on before allowing him to tug her over to the others. When he handed her a sword, she felt ridiculous, swinging it as he told her but knowing that she was doing it all wrong. They all laughed, sharing in their amusement before the dark cloud of war descended upon them.

\----------

The days passed quickly and soon, Jon was escorting her to her chambers on her last night as an unmarried young woman. She sighed as they reached her door, turning to look at him.

“What is it?” Jon asked, cradling her face in his hands.

“I only think of how happy I shall be in such a short time.” Sansa said, feeling overwhelmed by the joy that felt as though it would burst out of her chest.

He smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Before the sun sets on tomorrow, you will be my wife.” Jon said as he drew away, looking as though he could hardly believe that it would happen.

“And you my husband.” Sansa said, hardly able to contain herself.

She buried her face in his jerkin as she fought back a squeal of happiness. Jon laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are you certain of this? It means that you may never be able to live in Winterfell again.” he said, concern in his voice.

Sansa pulled away from him, taking a deep breath.

“I know that, but it is worth it.” she said, knowing her words to be true.

He frowned slightly.

“You always spoke of how badly you wished to return home.” Jon reminded her.

She reached up, putting her hand over his cheek.

“You are my home, Jon. All I need for you to do is return to me when all of this fighting is done. Then, we shall live the rest of our lives at each other’s sides, and I will never want for anything more.” Sansa assured him, pushing herself up to kiss him deeply.

Jon smiled at her when she drew away, nodding his head.

“I will return to you, my love,” he vowed solemnly, stroking his hands through her unbound hair. “How could I not?”

Sansa smiled, brushing her lips over the scarred knuckles of his hand.

“Goodnight, my Jon.” she whispered.

“Goodnight, sweet Sansa.” he replied, watching her as she slipped into her chambers.

She closed and latched the door behind her, letting out a happy noise as she turned in a circle.

“I am to be married tomorrow.” Sansa sighed, allowing her maids to undress her.

“You will be a beautiful bride, milady.” one of the women assured her.

She grinned, feeling like nothing could spoil her happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.
> 
> The wedding is in the next chapter. A new advantage for the royal family is revealed.


	24. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to everyone for your support and especially to MerMarie for beta-ing for me. I love you all.

Sansa woke with a smile on her face, stretching out beneath the blankets. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the sun was brightly filtering through the curtains over the windows. Her maids were moving around the room quietly, careful not to wake her after being instructed that she should sleep as late as she wished. She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. They all curtsied as she stood and she bid them a good morning in a cheerful tone, scratching Lady where she was still sleeping at the end of the bed.

“We have a bath ready for you, my lady. You’re meeting the queen and your lady mother to break your fast in the queen’s solar,” one of the maids explained.

She nodded, approaching the bath as the maids helped her out of her shift. Though she did not need it, Sansa knew that it was necessary. She would be a princess before the sun set that day and she would have to get used to being treated much differently. The thought made a smile curve on her face as she stepped into the hot water and sat down. Cersei always told her that she wouldn’t amount to much. Sansa wished that she could see the other woman now to tell her that she was wrong. She wasn’t a vengeful person, but she hoped that Cersei would get what she deserved when this was all over. Even though the thought of a war made her heart clench and her throat tighten, she hoped that in the end, the good side would win and the bad side would get what they so desperately deserved.

Sansa washed her own body but allowed one of her ladies to wash her hair out with lavender soap. When she climbed out of the tub, they dried her off and wrapped her long hair in a towel before helping her into a clean shift and smallclothes. She sat down at her dressing table and allowed one of the women to comb out her hair, braiding down her back simply so that it could be styled later for the wedding ceremony and the following banquet. She didn’t dress fancily for the breaking of her fast, putting on a light blue gown and her direwolf necklace. Sansa’s eyes were drawn to the corner of her room, where her wedding gown was hanging inside of a thick cloth covering so that it would not be dirtied. The maiden’s cloak was in a chest beside it, waiting for her to dress for the ceremony and feast.

“I can’t believe its today,” she sighed.

Sansa could not help the smile that formed on her face as her cheeks flushed. One of the queen’s ladies came to escort her, taking her to Elia’s chambers. When she arrived, her mother was already waiting with the queen as well as Rhaenys and Daenerys.

“Your Grace,” Sansa said, curtsying to Elia before lifting herself with a smile.

Rhaenys moved towards her, bestowing a kiss on both of her cheeks as they embraced.

“You are going to become my sister today,” she said excitedly, leading her to the table where an assortment of foods were laid out.

As she sat, Sansa could not help but remember breaking her fast with Lord Tywin and his thinly veiled threats. It felt like a lifetime ago, sending a shiver down her spine as she wondered what might have been if she did not receive the invitation to come to King’s Landing for the king’s nameday celebrations. Sansa pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to dwell on such things.

“Did you sleep well, Sansa?” Elia asked as they all began eating.

Sans was sitting to her right, a place of honor since this was her day. Rhaenys sat on her mother’s left and Catelyn was beside Sansa and across from Daenerys.

“Quite well, Your Grace,” she nodded.

The queen shook her head, reaching out to take her hand.

“We are to be family, Sansa. I wish that you would call me by my name,” Elia said quietly.

Sansa stared at her with surprise, nodding in agreement.

“Thank you…Elia,” she said hesitantly.

The queen looked happy, nodding as she went back to her food. Rhaenys gave her an encouraging look, winking at her.

“Word has apparently spread about the wedding, though I do not know how. There are people who have come to join the celebrations,” Daenerys said.

Sansa frowned slightly, her brow furrowing.

“What people?” she asked warily.

It was a great fear of hers that, somehow, the Lannisters might find a way to ruin this day. She sincerely hoped that it would not happen, for she only wished to be happy.

“They will be presented to you and the prince after the ceremony when you receive gifts. Do not fret, dearest. Nothing can spoil this day. We will make sure of it,” Catelyn assured her.

Sansa nodded, wanting so desperately to believe her.

“Jon is with his father now, right?” she asked, smiling slightly at the thought of him.

Catelyn nodded, “He is breaking his fast with the king and your father, as well as your brother and Theon Greyjoy.”

She frowned at that, wondering why Theon would be with them.

“Balon Greyjoy is said to be close to death. He was injured in a fall and his wounds fester,” Catelyn informed her, a slight look of disgust on her face. “If he dies, Theon will inherit the Iron Islands and the armies along with it. If the king and your father curry his favor enough, he might join the armies to our cause.”

Sansa nodded, knowing that it was a good political move. Still, she wished that such things did not have a bearing on her wedding day.

“And my grandfather? How does he fare? Will he be able to attend the ceremony?” she asked, changing the subject.

Her mother’s face fell slightly and Sansa knew the answer.

“Oh,” she sighed, putting down the piece of toast that she was nibbling on. “Perhaps he will be well enough to attend the banquet.”

Sansa wanted to remain optimistic on this day more than any other day. When Catelyn forced a smile on her face, she knew that it was unlikely. But it was still good to hope.

“Perhaps he will,” her mother agreed in a tight voice.

When they were done and it was time for Sansa to go to her chambers to ready for the ceremony, Elia requested that she stay so that they may speak in private. She stood before the queen, keeping her face pleasant as she wondered what the queen would have to say to her.

“I know that I said things in the wake of my son’s death about Lyanna and her son. They must have made you uncomfortable. I do not know why I said such things because it is not what I truly believe. I have always been conscious of Jon and I have tried to make him as comfortable as possible,” Elia said in quiet voice.

Sansa nodded in agreement.

“Grief makes us say things that we do not mean. You lost someone very dear to you, to us all, and you are to be excused for such things,” she said understandingly.

The queen gave her a sad smile.

“You are to be my good daughter, Sansa. I know what it is to be married to a prince and I would like to help you in whatever way you seek. After all, you will be queen after me,” Elia offered.

Sansa gave her a soft smile in return.

“That would please me greatly.”

Elia leaned forward, gathering her into an embrace that Sansa returned eagerly.

\----------

Once the queen accompanied Sansa to her chambers to prepare, she found that her mother, Rhaenys, and Arya were in her solar waiting for her. To Sansa’s surprise, Robb was also there, holding a small chest in his hands.

“What is that?” Sansa asked curiously once he bowed to Elia and rose.

“A gift from your betrothed. I was asked to deliver it to you.” Robb answered with a small smile.

He set it on the writing desk and Sansa glanced around with a questioning look, wondering what it could be. The others were all smiling, nodding at her with encouragement. She finally reached out to open it, gasping with delight when she saw what was inside.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” she murmured, not daring to touch the sparkling gift.

“My brother asked for everyone’s opinion on it once he had it made. It was done rather quickly when you agreed to marry. He wishes for you to wear it during the ceremony,” Rhaenys said, walking forward to stand beside Sansa.

She reached out to brush her fingers over the pearl and diamond encrusted diadem with awe.

“It’s perfect,” Sansa decided, glancing back at Robb. “Tell him thank you.”

He smiled at her, walking forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Tell him yourself, dear sister. You shall be seeing him soon.” Robb reminded her.

Sansa beamed, her eyes and face lighting up at the thought.

“I shall indeed.” she agreed.

Catelyn moved forward, shooing Robb away.

“This is a place for women only now. We have to get her ready,” she said to her eldest son.

Sansa waved at him with a giggle before allowing Rhaenys and Arya to lead her into her bedchamber. Catelyn and Elia followed close behind as a maid brought in the box with the tiara. They stripped her out of her gown and she pulled on a dark green dressing gown before sitting at the table in front of the looking glass. Lady leapt in her lap immediately, settling there as Sansa stroked her fingers through her soft fur. Her mother stood behind her, unwinding the braid slowly as Rhaenys removed the dress from its cloth and Arya pulled her maiden’s cloak out of the chest.

“I wore these when I married Rhaegar. I couldn’t bear to leave them behind in King’s Landing so I snuck them out. I think that you should wear them now,” Elia said, placing a small pouch in front of Sansa on the table.

She removed the bracelet carefully, smiling when she saw string of small pearls with diamonds between them.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” Sansa breathed, looking up at her with a grateful expression.

“How do you want your hair?” Catelyn asked, stroking her fingers through her daughter’s long auburn locks.

Sansa considered it for a moment, glancing over at Jon’s gift.

“Unbound with only a small braid around the sides to join at the back. Jon likes it that way,” she decided.

Her mother nodded, her nimble fingers crafting the exact style that she wanted. Sansa watched in the looking glass as the maids brushed any wrinkles out of her dress and cloak, ensuring that they were perfect before she put them on. A flagon of wine was brought for them and Elia sat with Rhaenys and Arya.

“What was your wedding day like?” Arya asked the queen curiously.

Elia smiled slightly, looking reminiscent as she ran her fingers through Rhaenys’ hair.

“It was wonderful. My gown was of many different colors, as is the tradition in Dorne. I rode to Baelor’s sept on a pure white horse and the people cheered for me. They thought me beautiful, though I was nothing compared to Rhaegar. The black of his clothes only made his hair and eyes all the more radiant. The ceremony was quick, though the banquet went on for hours before we were bedded. We heard the celebrations continue even after we shared the marriage bed. I imagine that it will be the same tonight across all the seven kingdoms when they learn that their future king has married a bride so worthy. The people need something to celebrate.”

Sansa beamed at her, hoping the same. She was glad to know the queen would be happy for them even though this rightfully should have been her own son marrying his future queen. Once her mother finished with her hair, she carefully set the diadem atop her head with the queen’s help. Sansa closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything until she was completely dressed. Lady licked at her fingers before she set her down on the ground and stood to take off her dressing gown. The maids came forward, helping her step in her wedding gown carefully. Sansa looked down at it with wonder, amazed at how perfectly the dress turned out.

The shimmering dove grey silk was overlaid by silver Myrish lace. It fit her torso snugly, accentuating her breasts and waist before flaring out at her hips. The skirt of the dress was fitted with many layers. Sansa smoothed her hands over the material as one of the ladies laced her into the dress. Her mother fitted the maiden’s cloak around her shoulders and Sansa was pleased to see that the clasp was a silver direwolf. Sansa caught her hands before she could pull away, looking up into her eyes as Rhaenys and Elia fixed her hair to lay around her shoulders and down her back.

“It’s lovely, Mother. Thank you,” Sansa said softly.

Catelyn looked up at her with tears in her eyes, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly.

“You are so beautiful,” she murmured as she cradled Sansa’s face in her hands before pulling away.

Sansa allowed Elia to put the earrings in, pressing a kiss to both of her cheeks.

“We must dress and then we are to go to the godswood.” Catelyn said.

She nodded, knowing that her father would come and get her when it was time.

“Thank you all.” Sansa said, messing with Arya’s hair and hugging Rhaenys before watching as they left.

When she was alone, the maids having left to help prepare the feast, Sansa took a deep breath and walked to the full-length looking glass in the corner. Her eyes widened at the sight of her reflection. Her cheeks were pink and her blue eyes were sparkling with happiness. She brushed her fingers over the gown and dark grey maiden’s cloak. She looked like a Stark, knowing that would not change even when she married Jon and he put a black and red cloak on her shoulders. He was as much as Stark as she was, and they would always be of the North. Sansa did not know how long she was staring at her reflection with a thoughtful look on her face but next thing she knew, a loud knock sounded on the door of her solar.

She could not help but smile, lifting her skirts to move as quickly as she could. When she pulled the heavy door open, Sansa grinned at her father as he took in her appearance with wide eyes. Ned looked overcome with emotion, simply leaning in to press a bristly kiss to her cheek.

“You look wonderful,” he whispered in her ear before offering his arm to her.

“Thank you, Father.” she said softly, giving him a kiss in return.

Sansa took it, glancing back to see Lady waiting behind her patiently as if prepared to accompany her. She let out a small laugh and before instructing her to stay. They walked down the corridor slowly, ensuring that she did not catch her dress or cloak on any sharp stones along the wall.

“Father?” Sansa asked.

He looked at her with an open expression, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind.

“Do you think that we will win this war?” Sansa asked, worry evident in her voice.

Ned sighed, turning her to face him just before they walked out into the courtyard.

“I cannot say for certain, dearest Sansa. I can only pray that we do for all our sakes. But I do not wish for you to think of war or enemies now. This is a day for happiness and celebration, for you to rejoice in the blessings the gods have given you,” Ned said quietly.

Sansa nodded, knowing that he was right.

“Thank you Papa,” she whispered, using the name for him that she did as a child.

A smile broke out on his face, making him look much younger as his grey eyes shone with joy.

“My beautiful daughter, I am so proud of you,” he said before turning her to the doors once more.

The guards opened them as they stepped forward and Sansa was surprised to see a crowd awaiting them. They were the smallfolk from several surrounding villages, coming to see her make her way to the godswood. Sansa was certain that they’d seen Jon and the others do the same only minutes before. They parted for them, watching as she stepped out into the sunlight with her father. Sansa smiled at them as they walked along the path that was made for them.

“Gods bless you, my lady!”

“Seven blessings on you, Lord Stark!” 

The cries of joy echoed around them as they made their way into the godswood. When they reached the crowd of people before the heart tree, Sansa felt her heart quicken in her chest and her hand clenched down on her father’s arm. He reached over to pat it reassuringly as the lords and ladies parted to let them pass. Jaime was not there, which gave her a small pang of sadness. She invited him, though a large part of her did not expect him to come. He did not think himself welcome at the ceremony and promised her that he would be at the feast. Her mother, Robb, and Arya were standing on one side of the tree and the king and queen along with Rhaenys and Daenerys who were on the other. 

Jon stood between them with the septon, waiting for her to approach. Sansa fixed her eyes on him, taking in his formal black clothing and the black and red cloak on his shoulders. He was staring at her with awe, as if he thought she might disappear at any moment. Sansa gave him a bright smile, unable to hold it back. He returned it, looking as though he would sprint towards her and take her in his arms right there if there was not a ceremony to be had. They reached the heart tree after the slow walk and her father took her hand in his.

“Who gives this woman?” the septon asked.

“I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

At the holy man’s nod, he placed Sansa’s hand in Jon’s and kissed her cheek before moving to stand with his wife. She could hardly tear her eyes from Jon, almost unable to believe that this was truly happening. He stared back at her before squeezing her hand gently and turning to face the tree. She did the same, looking at the richly dressed septon.

“Who comes before the gods?”

Jon answered first, as was tradition.

“Jon of House Targaryen, Son of Rhaegar, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

Sansa took a deep breath before answering as well.

“Sansa of House Stark, Daughter of Eddard, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

They bowed their heads as he led a prayer, both to the old and the new gods. The ceremony was a blur, passing quickly before they were instructed to face one another and say their vows.

“By the old gods and the new, I take this woman as my wife. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days,” Jon’s voice rang out clearly over the godswood, proud and steady.

Sansa smiled at him happily before repeating the same vows in a similar tone.

“By the old gods and the new, I take this man as my husband. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days.”

Jon reached to carefully unclasp the cloak from around her shoulders, handing it off to Robb before pulling his off and sweeping it around her body. Sansa turned her head towards him, feeling lighter even as she felt the weight of his cloak around her shoulders. He leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on her cheek that made her smile. Sansa turned, receiving his ring from Arya. Jon went first, sliding a simple gold band onto her finger. She did the same, realizing that they looked exactly alike, their house words inscribed on the inside and outside of the rings. Once they were done, both looked at the septon for his blessing.

“Now, as the gods permit, you may kiss and seal this blessed union,” he announced.

He turned back to her, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. Sansa reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, feeling her heart leap for joy. When he pulled away, they shared a smile before turning to face the others.

“I give you Prince Jon Targaryen and his wife, Princess Sansa.”

Jon and Sansa led the witnesses through the godswood, their hands clasped and delighted looks on their faces. When they stepped into the courtyard once more, the people cheered loudly at the sight of them.

“May the gods look kindly your marriage!”

“Seven blessings on the prince and the princess!”

Sansa marveled over the fact that she was a princess now. Her mind could not help to go to the one woman who should have been there to see this.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Jon asked as they approached the Great Hall.

She hesitated, glancing over at him.

“Lyanna,” Sansa said honestly. “She should have been here and I am so sorry that she was not.”

Jon’s face faltered at the thought of his mother before he smiled slightly.

“She is watching, I am certain. And there is no doubt in my mind that she approves of my bride,” he said, stopping her just before they walked inside.

The crowd of smallfolk roared their approval as he leaned in to kiss her deeply. Sansa smiled against his lips before responding in kind. They were both flushing when they pulled away, turning to walk inside. The Great Hall was lavishly decorated, a high table set up on a dais and several smaller tables below it. There was a crowd of people already waiting for them who clapped happily as they made their way to the dais. Sansa did not recognize most of the faces, only knowing some because they came with her father from the North. Jon led her up the steps to their table, pulling her chair out for her to sit. They were at the center, the honored ones at this feast. Her mother and father would sit beside her while the king and queen would sit at Jon’s side.

A lower table was set up for Rhaenys, Edmure, Daenerys, Robb, Arya, and Theon as well as some of the higher Dragonstone and northern lords. Sansa was disappointed when Hoster was not anywhere to be seen, though she hid it well. Jon turned to look at her as a chalice full of wine was brought to them, his hand lifting to brush over the diadem where it sat atop her hair.

“This looks even more radiant on you than I could have imagined,” he acknowledged.

Sansa flushed with happiness at his words.

“I love it, Jon. Thank you,” she breathed.

“A beautiful crown for a beautiful princess.” he said, leaning in to kiss her once more.

Rhaegar cleared his throat, reminding them that they must start the feast by drinking from the wedding chalice. They both stood, quieting the hall full of people.

“To my beautiful wife, Princess Sansa! May our union bring her joy for the rest of her days!” Jon said loudly.

He did not often speak to large crowds of people, and never this loudly. But as Sansa heard the approval of the men and women in the room, she could suddenly imagine him as king. It was a pleasing image and she knew that he would be a good ruler, as if there was any doubt in her mind before. Once he drank from it, Jon handed the chalice to her carefully. Sansa balanced it in her smaller hands, finding it too heavy to hold with one as he did.

“To my gracious husband, Prince Jon! May our marriage bless him and comfort him throughout his life!” Sansa toasted, her voice ringing out clearly over the large room.

She drank of the sweet wine before smiling brightly. Once she set down the chalice, Jon kept her standing with his hand in hers, lifting his smaller cup of wine as she did the same.

“Long live the king!” he said proudly.

The people in the room echoed his sentiment, all drinking eagerly to Rhaegar.

“And long live his queen!” Sansa added, nodding at Elia before drinking.

As they took their seats, the king stood with his own cup of wine.

“I give my heartfelt approval and blessings upon my son and his lovely new wife. May the gods bless their union with happiness and many new princes and princesses for Westeros. To Prince Jon and Princess Sansa!”

“To Prince Jon and Princess Sansa!”

The servants finally brought the food out to be served as the hall filled with excited chatter and songs from the musicians in the corner. Sansa kept one hand in Jon’s, unwilling to release it even as they ate.

“Are you truly happy?” Jon asked after a long time of talking with their families on either side of them.

Sansa smiled over at him, lifting his hand to kiss it softly.

“More than I can even describe, my love,” she answered.

He smiled back, kissing the back of her hand in return.

“As am I,” Jon said.

Their loving gaze was broken by the sound of the doors of the Great Hall opening. Everyone turned to look upon the entrance, their voices and the music fading as a man stepped into the hall. Several gasps echoed around them as they looked upon his face.


	25. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the wedding. The mystery guest is revealed. Jon and Sansa receive several gifts before they retire for their wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE END NOTE ONCE YOU FINISH THE CHAPTER. It is very important.
> 
>  
> 
> [Links to Sansa's tiara and the necklace from Elia and Rhaegar](http://lady-annabeth-stark.tumblr.com/post/94039420133/these-are-just-pictures-of-things-to-go-along-with)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone. I love you all and I'm so glad that you've been on this journey with me. I hope that you will continue reading after you finish this chapter.

Sansa watched as the man dressed brilliant yellow clothing walked in, a slight smirk on his face. A beautiful woman stepped up beside him, taking his arm.

“Who is that?” she asked quietly.

Jon did not answer, turning his head towards the king and queen. When Elia and Rhaenys both stood abruptly, Sansa suddenly noted the resemblance between the three.

“Oberyn Martell, the queen’s brother.” Rhaegar answered her question before standing as well.

Sansa barely kept herself from gaping as she remembered every story that she heard of the famed Red Viper. He was as handsome as they said and she wondered if he was also really as deadly as he was rumored to be. He approached the tables, following by several beautiful but dangerous looking women with daggers strapped to their waists. When Oberyn reached the dais, he swept into a low bow before rising with a full smile on his handsome face.

“I do hope that I have not missed everything. I did try to get here in time for the revelry in my nephew’s honor,” he said in a voice far more heavily accented than Elia’s, nodding at Jon.

Everyone looked to Sansa and she knew why. Even though she was not of the highest rank, she was still the hostess of the banquet. It was her job to greet any honored guests, even if they showed up late. Jon stood, holding his hand out to help her to her feet at her nod. She stepped away from the table before slowly descending the dais with her new husband just behind her. Every eye was on her as she approached the prince of Dorne. Sansa hoped that she would not do anything wrong as she reached him, holding her hand out as she kept it steady.

“Prince Oberyn,” she said, sweeping into a curtsy before straightening up and looking him in the eye. “You are most welcome. We shall have a place of honor set for you and…”

Sansa trailed off, glancing at the woman at his side.

“This is my paramour, Ellaria Sand,” Oberyn said, gesturing to her.

Sansa was not a fool, she knew that this was a test of her hospitality. Would she accept a bastard woman at the higher tables? Sansa put on her most charming smile, behaving as gracefully as the wife of a prince and the future king should. She held her hand out, allowing the other woman to take it before leaning in to press a kiss to both of her cheeks.

“We shall gladly have places set for you and your paramour,” Sansa said, using the same word that he did, as it seemed the safest.

“We are most honored by your invitation, Princess Sansa,” Ellaria said with a smile.

Sansa stepped away, giving Jon her hand as he moved to stand at her side.

“Uncle,” he acknowledged the man.

“Nephew,” the prince replied.

He turned his head, gesturing to the men behind him.

“We are accompanied by my company of fighters, as well as a few of my daughters, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene,” Oberyn informed them.

Sansa looked at Jon with wide eyes as the women all bowed, unable to curtsy with breeches on instead of dresses. She had heard of the Sand Snakes. Their reputation preceded them and they were said to be as deadly as their father. Sansa glanced at the fearsome women hesitantly, wondering if they meant anyone harm.

“They wish to pledge their swords to the king and his heir in this war,” the prince assured them.

Jon nodded in agreement as Sansa relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.

“We will be glad to have them. Thank you,” he said formally.

As they spoke, Sansa saw the servants hurriedly setting places on the other side of Rhaegar and Elia for Oberyn and Ellaria and several places at the lower table with her siblings for the Sand Snakes.

“Come, greet your sister and niece,” she invited, gesturing to them.

Jon led her back to her seat as Oberyn greeted the others at the high tables. When they took their own seats, the feast continued and the music resumed once more. When all of the food was finally cleared away and the higher tables were moved aside, Sansa knew that it was time for gifts to be bestowed upon her and Jon. They sat in their chairs on the dais, surrounded by their families. Sansa saw the castle blacksmith hovering by the wall and held up her hand, pausing everyone as they lined up to present their gifts.

“I have something for you, husband.” she said, looking over at Jon with a smile.

Jon looked curious as she gestured for the blacksmith to come forward with linen-wrapped object. He knelt before them, holding it out as Sansa reached to uncover it.

“My sword,” Jon realized, reaching out to take it in his hands as he stood. “I was wondering where it went.”

He looked over at her with a small smile as Sansa stood, her hand joining his on the sheathed sword.

“A new hilt for you, my prince. The head of a direwolf to remind you of your Northern roots with a dragon etched into the metal of the scabbard on one side. On the other, Valyrian words for you to remember no matter where you are,” Sansa explained, turning it over for him to see.

Jon read the old language with ease, taught by his tutors from an early age.

“Winter is Coming. Fire and Blood,” he said in a quiet voice, looking up at her with awe. “My house words.”

Sansa nodded, happy that she was able to do this without him growing suspicious. It took some maneuvering between her, Robb, and Rhaenys to get the sword away from him long enough to allow the blacksmith to complete the alterations. Jon drew her into a deep kiss, showing his thanks for the gift. When they drew away, he faced the blacksmith.

“You are to be congratulated, master blacksmith,” he said approvingly, reaching out to clap the man on the shoulder. “This is work well done.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” the blacksmith said, bowing low to them before backing away.

Once the sword was handed off and they took their seats once more, Jon took her hand.

“I have a gift for you as well, my love,” Jon said quietly.

Sansa’s hand went to the tiara on her head.

“Another?” she questioned, pursing her lips at him.

Jon simply smiled at her.

“This one did not cost me much at all. Only the expenses for her travel,”

He gestured to the tables and Sansa gasped when she saw who stood to walk over to them.

“Shae,” she breathed, grinning as the woman swept into a curtsy.

“Your Graces,” the woman said, a small smile on her face as she stood.

Sansa did not hesitate, caring not for etiquette as she stood to embrace her tightly.

“How?” she asked.

“Tyrion did not think it was safe for me in King’s Landing. His sister is still angry after he came forward with evidence about his nephew. He wrote to the prince and king asking for permission for me to travel here to be your maid once more,” Shae said, nodding at Jon behind her.

Sansa hugged her once more.

“We shall speak later,” she vowed, knowing that she could not spend too much time with the other woman.

“Of course,” Shae said, curtsying once more before moving back to her table.

Sansa simply gave Jon a kiss on his cheek as she sat next to him once more.

“I love you so much more than I can voice,” she said, stroking his hair.

“And I love you even more than that,” Jon replied.

She shook her head in denial.

“That isn’t possible,” she informed him.

Their argument was interrupted as more people brought up gifts for the royal couple. Just before it came time for their families to bestow their own presents upon them, a strange man, unfamiliar to either of them, approached the dais with a chest in his hand.

“A gift for the realm as much as the prince and princess,” he said, bowing his head.

“Who are you?” Jon asked, sitting up straighter with a frown.

The man lifted his head with a small smile.

“Magister Illyrio Mopatis, Your Grace. I have come on behalf of a spider,” he answered.

Sansa and Jon exchanged a look.

“Varys,” they both said at once.

Jon gestured for him to come forward, knowing that the Master of Whispers helped them escape from King’s Landing and that they owed them their lives. He opened the chest to reveal three large stone-like shapes. Sansa and Jon both leaned forward, wondering if they were what they seemed to be.

“Dragons’ eggs, Your Graces. From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful,” he said, a mysterious glint in his eye.

Jon reached out, stroking his fingers over the darkest egg.

“They are wonderful, Magister. Thank you,” Sansa nodded at him.

He bowed once more and set the chest among the other gifts before moving away. Sansa’s father and mother were first to present gifts. Several servants approached with wrapped objects in their arms, one large and one small. Sansa was taken by surprise when her father handed the smaller to Jon. When he unwrapped a black dagger with rubies in set into the hilt, Ned opened his mouth to explain.

“It is a dragonglass dagger, rumored to remain from the time of Bran the Builder, if he did not wield it himself.”

Jon gripped the weapon in his hand, twirling it around and slashing at the air before giving his good father a smile.

“Thank you, Lord and Lady Stark. I shall cherish this,” he vowed to them.

Sansa stood to receive her gift, her eyes widening when she uncovered the beautifully crafted bow and sheath of arrows.

“I hardly know what to say,” she said, clearly taken aback by the gift.

It seemed like something more than Arya would want, rather than her.

“This is a weirwood bow. It was made by my brother, Brandon, before his death. He gifted it to our sister on her fifteenth nameday and she left it behind in Winterfell. I have no doubt that she would have wanted you to have it. She loved this bow and she would be glad to know that her niece and good daughter is protected by it. I am certain that you will learn to use it,” Ned said, covering her hands with his.

Tears sprung to Sansa’s eyes as she realized how meaningful the gift truly was.

“I will learn in honor of my aunt and good mother’s memory, Papa,” she nodded, leaning in to kiss first his, then her mother’s cheeks.

Sansa turned to Jon, laying the bow on the ground beside her chair before taking her seat once more. As Rhaegar and Elia approached them, she did not miss the longing look that the king cast at the weirwood bow. It was gone as quickly as it came.

“My son,” he said, nodding at Jon.

They both stood, unable to remain sitting before their king. A servant brought forward a small chest and a larger box. Rhaegar opened the box first, revealing a pitch-black chest plate with a red three-headed dragon emblazoned upon it.

“This is just one piece of your new armor,” Rhaegar said, watching as Jon ran his fingers over the dragon.

“Thank you, Father,” he replied, nodding at him.

Elia opened the small chest, showing Sansa a brilliant necklace of diamonds and one large sapphire pendant.

“This is too much,” she said, her eyes widening as she looked up at the king and queen.

“It is hardly enough, daughter,” Rhaegar nodded at her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Elia did the same with a nod at her before they stepped away. Once the gifts were all cleared away, the music began again and dancing started along with it.

“Wife?” Jon said, reaching his hand out to her as if he could not get enough of saying the words to her.

Sansa grinned at him, standing to unclasp her cloak. She laid it across her chair before taking his hand.

“Husband,” she replied, allowing him to escort her towards the dancers.

A space was cleared for them and Jon began twirling her around the floor as they danced to a quick Northern reel. Sansa laughed, delighted as his arm wrapped around her waist to hold her steady against him. She was pleased to see her mother and father dancing as well as Robb and Rhaenys.

“I never thought that I would make it to this day,” Jon said, wonder clear on his face.

Sansa simply smiled at him, curling her fingers in his hair.

“Neither did I,” she said honestly, stopping their dancing for a moment to kiss him.

Robb claimed her when the dance ended, then her father, and then the king. When she’d danced with most of the lords in the room, Prince Oberyn approached her and bowed, offering his hand.

“You are as beautiful as the rumors say,” he said as they moved in a simple, southron dance.

“And you are as deadly, I’d imagine,” Sansa replied.

He smiled slightly, looking over her head where Jon was dancing with Arya.

“My sister has always been good to Lyanna Stark’s child,” Oberyn said before lifting her in the air and spinning them around.

“Elia is a gracious woman. I can’t imagine that she would have been any less,” Sansa replied.

He nodded in agreement.

“When he was brought to King’s Landing and put in the nursery with her son, she refused to allow a wet nurse to feed him. She said that she would raise him as his mother,” Oberyn explained.

Sansa glanced over at the queen, who was dancing with one of the Dragonstone lords.

“I can only hope to be as good a princess and queen as her,” she admitted.

“As you should,” Oberyn said.

Sansa looked up at him as they danced around.

“Do you not resent Jon? He is not truly your nephew. That boy was killed by Gregor Clegane,” she said bluntly, curious of his motivations.

A flicker of anger went through the man’s eyes.

“And he will pay for it, I promise you that,” he vowed.

“No doubt at the tip of one of your poisoned spears.”

He nodded in confirmation.

“Do not tell me that you would not do the same to each of the Lannisters who mistreated you, perhaps with that impressive bow that your father bestowed upon you,” Oberyn suggested.

Sansa did not have to think about it for very long.

“I wouldn’t have the chance, even if I wished it. The battlefield is no place for a woman,” Sansa said, repeating what she’d always heard.

The prince smirked, twirling her around before pulling her in close. He put his mouth to her ear.

“A woman can kill as easily as a man,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her neck. “Put a weapon in her hands and she’ll be as deadly as she is beautiful. You are not the weaker sex. If anything, you are the stronger. Use the love that burns within you for a purpose, Sansa Targaryen. You will find that you can take down ten men.”

She gaped at him as he walked away from her, rejoining his paramour at their seats.

“Time for the bedding!” a man shouted, tearing her out of her thoughts.

Sansa looked around with wide eyes, not realizing that it was already so late. Jon was across the floor from her, his eyes catching her’s just before she was hoisted into the air. She remained still as the men carried her out, tearing her gown from her as they advanced upon her chambers. It was highly uncomfortable but she remained still as they entered her solar and marched onto her bedchamber. She was set on her feet and her shift was torn away. When a man reached for her smallclothes, Sansa gasped and tried to bat his hands away. A dagger was suddenly held to his throat threateningly.

“Out with all of you,” a familiar voice said, making her sigh with relief.

Sansa picked her shift up, covering her chest with it as the men all walked out, still in good cheer as they sang. She looked up at Jaime.

“Thank you,” Sansa sighed, pushing herself up to kiss his cheek.

Jaime smiled at her sadly, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Enjoy your wedding night, Your Grace,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead before turning to leave.

Sansa stared after him for a moment before turning away. She walked to her bed, dropping her shift on the way. Both Lady and Ghost were on the rug before the fire, looking annoyed that the rambunctious crowd of men woke them from their slumber. In the fire itself, the three dragon eggs sat amongst the coals. Sansa stared at them as she heard the approaching women who were surely bringing her husband to her. She broke out of her trance, slowly untying her smallclothes to slip them down her legs. Sansa climbed atop her blankets, sitting in wait for Jon with her hair falling around her bare shoulders.

He finally staggered in, his smallclothes the only thing covering him. His cheeks were red and he had a small frown on his face that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of her waiting on him. Sansa smiled, holding her hand out to him. Better men had accepted lesser invitations. Jon walked towards her with sure steps, pausing at the edge of the bed to untie his smallclothes. Sansa bit her lip as he revealed himself to her completely, admiring his tanned body with a small smile as he climbed up onto the bed with her. They met in the middle, their lips crashing together. When he lifted his hand to her head, Sansa realized that she was still wearing the sparkling diadem.

“Oh,” she said quietly, reaching up to remove it.

“Leave it on,” Jon said, catching her hand.

Sansa smiled at him, realizing that he liked seeing her in his gift and nothing else. She leaned in to kiss him once more, exploring his back with her hands. His hand slid up her abdomen, his thumb sweeping over the underside of her breast before brushing it over her nipple. She gasped into his mouth, clenching her fingers in his long curls.

“Gods, but I love you,” he groaned, rolling the hardened peak between his finger and thumb.

“Jon, please,” Sansa whimpered, tossing her head back as he did the same with the other nipple.

He pushed her back onto the pillows gently, kissing down her throat and chest before taking one of her nipples into his mouth. Sansa arched her back at the pleasure that rippled through her. Her legs fell open as his knees nudged them apart and he settled into the cradle of her hips. Jon laved his tongue over her nipple before nibbling on it lightly. She writhed beneath him, unable to keep herself quiet.

“Oh…everything is perfect,” Sansa panted, running her fingers through his hair.

Jon hummed in agreement, moving to her other breast and giving it the same treatment. His hand stroked up her leg, finding her wet between her thighs.

“Gods,” he mumbled, stroking her folds softly.

She let out a whine, pushing her hips against his hand in desperation for more.

“I must have you,” Jon said, looking up at her, his eyes darkened with lust.

“I am yours,” Sansa whispered, stroking her hand over his cheek.

He pressed a kiss to the soft skin over her ribs.

“Then I must taste you,”

Sansa’s eyes widened as he kissed his way down her stomach, leaving her skin tingling in his wake.

“Jon, you cannot mean to…oh!”

She tossed her head back as he parted her folds and pressed his tongue to her sex. Her hips jerked upwards when he licked one long stripe up the length of her womanhood, flicking it over the sensitive bud there.

“Oh, that’s…that’s…” Sansa could not get the word out as he kissed and licked her eagerly.

“What is it, sweet girl?” Jon asked from between her legs, his voice low and rough.

She slid her fingers into his hair, fighting the urge to pull his mouth back to her.

“Delightfully wicked,” Sansa finally said, looking down at him.

Seeing his face between her legs with a smirk on his lips made a flash of heat rush through her.

“Shall I continue?” Jon asked, his warm breath washing over her and making her clench with need.

“Oh gods yes,” she nodded, dragging him back towards her.

He chuckled before applying his lips and tongue to a good use. Sansa writhed against him, her leg thrown over his shoulder and the arch of her foot pressing into his spine between his shoulder blades. The only thing keeping her down on the bed was his hands on her hips.

“Yes,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as pleasure rolled over her. “Don’t stop, Jon…gods…please don’t stop.”

Sansa’s breathing grew sharper as she felt her stomach coiling in anticipation. His name on her lips was a cross between a sob and a moan as her release shook her. Jon did not stop, licking at her without care for her pleas.

“Jon, you mustn’t…I can’t…too much…” she whimpered, trying to push him away.

He would not budge, his tongue’s movements becoming almost feverish. It was not long until she was peaking again, screaming his name out once more.

“Jon!” Sansa growled, pushing him away with a laugh as he tried to go for a third.

He looked up at her with a partly dazed look, his face slick with her wetness and his lips dark pink and swollen. Jon wiped his mouth on the blankets before moving up to lay his body over her. He began kissed over her skin reverently, exploring the rest of her body eagerly. Sansa laid there, smiling slightly as he kissed every inch of her. When she finally had enough, Sansa pulled him into a kiss, moaning when she tasted herself on his tongue. The thought only made her kiss him more passionately, which made him grind against her in turn. She opened her legs to him, wrapping them around his waist.

“Now,” she whispered.

He pulled away and looked down at her.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked, wanting to make sure that she was certain.

Sansa nodded eagerly, stroking his hair out of his eyes.

“I want you inside of me, my love. I want to feel you moving in me and I want your seed. I want a child by you, a beautiful babe to call our own,”

Jon stared at her with a desperate look as he took himself in hand. Sansa pressed kisses to his shoulder, willing herself not to tense up. When he pressed into her, she gasped and buried her face in his skin. There was a sharp pinch between her thighs, making her back arch and a small cry to escape from her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Jon murmured again and again as he stopped moving.

“Don’t stop,” Sansa said, pulling his hips towards her.

He hesitated but obeyed her, pushing all the way in as a tear ran down her cheek. Jon kissed it away, growing still to allow her to get used to the feeling of being filled so completely. He kissed over her cheeks and jaw before pressing his lips to hers. Sansa moved her hips slightly, drawing a groan out of him.

“I’m all right, Jon. You can move,” she encouraged him.

He pulled away, bracing himself on his hands to make sure. Sansa nodded quickly, rolling her hips against his. Jon pulled away slowly before filling her once more. There was still an uncomfortable twinge but it was nothing compared to before. She held him close as he thrusted in and out of her, breathing out declarations of his love for her and the beauty of her body and soul. Sansa found a heat building within her once more as pleasure slowly overtook the pain. Soon, she was moaning and moving with him, digging her fingers into his back. When he gripped her hips and pulled her close, Sansa gasped as he turned them over.

“I don’t…I don’t know what to do,” she admitted with red cheeks.

Jon looked up at her with love and desire, holding her hips firmly.

“Like this,” he said, guiding her movements.

They both moaned at the feeling. Sansa kept up the motion, bracing her hands on his chest. It felt even better this way as he struck the spot within her. She pulled back, sitting straight up as her hands went to his on her hips, pulling them away to entwine them halfway between their bodies. With his hands steadying her, Sansa moved even quicker.

“So beautiful, even more than that tiara in your hair, so beautiful and all mine,” Jon moaned out, praising her as she smiled and flushed.

“Love you,” Sansa gasped, staring down into his eyes.

“I love you too, sweet girl. I love you so much,” he replied.

She whimpered, clenching around him as her body rose higher and higher.

“That’s it, come for me, Sansa,” Jon encouraged.

As if her body was waiting for his permission, she peaked for a third time, riding him through the release. When she all but slumped against him, Jon held her hips and thrusted up into her until he let out a shout of her name, his movements becoming erratic as she felt him spilling within her. Sansa turned over, falling onto her back as they both caught their breath. After several minutes, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I never thought…” she flushed at the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

“What?” Jon said, looking over at her.

Sansa stared back at him, leaning over to kiss him quickly.

“I never thought that it could be that good,” she said as she pulled away.

Jon grinned before lifting her up to a sitting position. He turned her around slowly pulling the diadem from her hair to set it on the table by the bed. He unwound her braid, releasing the locks to fall unbound around her shoulders. He kissed along the soft skin of her neck when he swept her hair to the side.

“My lovely wife,” he breathed as though he could hardly believe it.

Sansa smiled, reaching back to slide her hand into his curls.

“My beautiful husband,” she said in return, turning her head to kiss him.

They fell onto the bed at once, both tired enough to sleep soundly in each others arms.

\----------

Sansa did not quite know what she was seeing. She was in her bedchamber, just as she was when she went to sleep. It was dark outside and the castle was silent around them. But instead of being in the bed with Jon, she was lying on the ground in front of the fire. It only took her moments to realize that she was in Lady’s head. She heard a soft creaking noise and lifted her head from her paws to see him sliding out of the bed, careful not to wake her. Jon pulled on his smallclothes before approaching the fire. He reached down, scratching her and Ghost’s ears before staring at the dragon eggs that rested amongst the coals. When he started reaching for one, Sansa woke up with a gasp. She was back in the bed, staring at Jon where his back was facing her. Just as she saw in her dream, he was reaching for the fire. 

“What are you doing?” Sansa mumbled, reaching for her dressing gown as she slid out of bed.

There was a slight twinge between her thighs, making her smile as she remembered what they did. She pushed the thoughts aside, tying the robe as she approached him. When she knelt beside him, she saw Jon gazing down at the black egg that was in his hands.

“Jon?” Sansa said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Shh,” he whispered, glancing up at her. “Wait.”

She knew that it should have been burning his hand, but remembered what he said about being impervious to fire. Surely since he was not acting as though he was pain, there could be nothing wrong. Sansa frowned in spite of that, wondering what he was doing. It wasn’t until she saw the egg shake in his hand that she let out a gasp and her eyes widened.

“Jon…” Sansa began, unsure of what to say.

They heard a small squeaking noise as it shook again, followed by two similar noises. Her eyes lifted to the fire, where the other two dragon eggs were doing the same.

“Are they…hatching?” she asked with disbelief.

Her question was answered quickly, as the egg in Jon’s hand cracked and a piece flew off. A louder squeak filled the air followed by more cracks and then an entire chunk of the egg fell off. Both of the direwolves were on their feet, watching with curious expressions. Soon enough, the egg was destroyed in chunks that littered the floor and a small dragon was in Jon’s hands. Two more sat in the fire, letting out pathetic noises as they looked up at the two humans. Jon reached out to Sansa’s hand, putting them in a cupping position.

“Jon, I cannot…”

He did not give her a chance to refuse, carefully placing the dragon in her hands before reaching into the flames to allow the other two to climb onto his hands. Sansa stared with wide eyes as the black one she held stretched out his wings and let out a puff of smoke, looking up at her as if he was proud of the feat.

“Gods be good, what does this mean?” Sansa breathed, carefully stroking his scaly head as he closed his eyes and shuddered happily.

Jon shook his head, looking up at her before he spoke four words that made her shiver.

“The dragons have returned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of "Learn to Love What Burns". But do not worry! There will be a sequel. I thought this would be a good place to end this particular part of the story. It's tied up a few things. When I decide on a name and the basic outline of the sequel, I will put a note on this story letting you know when I publish it. Thank you so much for your lovely support. I couldn't have done it without any of you.


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